


Driving Miss Rey

by trashofficial



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BenRey - Freeform, Eventual Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, Reylo - Freeform, also it's a bit of a slow burn guys, ben doesn't want to protect himself from the sun, beware of the sun tho, hehehe i'm leaving it at that, hop on the ben solo express, just....beware of the sun, oh my god i tagged sun instead of sin, protect urself, wear sunscreen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofficial/pseuds/trashofficial
Summary: Average Joe Ben Solo is a bus driver in a local town whose days seem to repeat themselves over and over. That is, until, she steps on board.





	1. Sky and Walker

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short fic based on an aesthetic/idea I found on tumblr ( http://hislightandherdarkness.tumblr.com/image/156775713321). I saw it and my mouth was watering for...reasons. IT IS NOT MY IDEA. But I also wanted to post something short to let y'all know that I'm still around and still writing chapters for Like the Moon Chases the Sun! 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and feedback is GREATLY appreciated(:

          It’s December 11th when she first boards the bus.

          It’s cold, flurries of snow trickling from the grey sky and blanketing the ground, the pedestrians, cars, and all else it possibly can in bright white. The wind is visible even from behind the frosted windows of the bus and Ben's joints ache at the mere sight of the chilled fluff. He hates driving in the snow. _Actually_ , Ben hates the snow (had a bad sledding experience ending with a black eye and an icicle tearing into his rib cage and the scars to prove it.) Inside and sat at the wheel, he silently prays that he doesn't endure another snowy incident. Still, it's only December 11th. Winter has just barely begun.

          (In retrospect, he doesn’t find it creepy, well, not _that_ creepy, that he remembers the first time he’d seen her because it’s the same day he got his first pair of contact lenses, making a mental note to read anything and everything he could just because he _could_. Including, but not limited to, _the date_. It was a good fact to know, anyway.)

          He knows he’s acting as if he were blind and it’s not that he couldn’t see prior with his glasses, but he simply marvels at the fact that he could see just as clearly without the frames settled over his nose, leaving indents and sliding down the bridge. They remain on his nightstand should he fumble and drop the clear domes down the drain like his Doctor warned him about.

          And he sees her clear as crystal. 

          Ben's never regarded this bus stop. Hasn't had a reason to. It's just one of many pit stops he makes in a day. Now, as he pulls up, there is something far more intriguing awaiting behind the closed doors. He can't say the same for the young woman who awaits his arrival.

          There isn’t enough time between the opening of the bus doors, her ascent up the stairs, and swift flash of her pass for Ben to really take her in. He sees her hairline first and the freckles that dust her forehead. He's met with her face for all of a half second before she's standing, her chest level with Ben's eyes. When he looks up, and he looks up swiftly to ensure he hasn't already make her uncomfortable, she's smiling and he's holding his breath as he looks up into her face.

          The girl smiles a closed mouthed smile, dark green hues slightly crinkled, cheeks flushed, lips pink and glossy. Are those... _dimples_ he sees? Ben stares. _That's it, that's all he does, all he thinks he can do right then and there_. Truth be told, he'd rather have stared at her face than her jacket clad breasts. And then she’s moving past him to find a seat and his hues follow her like that of a portrait painting on a wall, internally wishing he could have at least managed a "hi" or a "welcome". That is, until, the woman behind her huffs in frustration, shoving her pass closer. Ben notes that she's far less appealing than the girl who'd gotten on before her, donning a tattered black sweatshirt and grey sweatpants, older and aged, even older than Ben, and smelled of stale cigarette smoke. 

_Don't worry, lady. The cold puts me in a bad mood, too._

          Ben gives a nod of his head, nothing more, and ultimately, his approval and then then woman is off and the doors are shutting in preparation for his resumed schedule.

          The driver sees too many people to count in a day, some new, some reoccurring. All different faces, ages, sizes, heights, colors but none quite different enough to draw his attention. Some days, he hardly even so much as glances at the passengers coming on board. He looks for a pass or cash. It's not like he can strike up a conversation with everyone who steps onto the bus nor does he really contain the desire to. Besides, his eyes are meant to stay on the road.

          He’s willing, almost eager (too eager), to break this rule on December 11th when the young woman, of which an age simply cannot be pinpointed, sits directly in the reflection of the rear view mirror. Ben can’t help the glances he steals but tries to keep them to a minimum. However, with each rise and fall of his optics to her reflection, he makes note of a new detail. _Well_ , what details he can make out with the distance between them and the short amount of time he can spend looking into the mirror.

          She wears her chestnut hair in not one, but three knots spanning from the top of her head to the nape of her neck, wisps falling from their hold to frame her soft face. Ben glances at just the right moment to catch her profile as she stares out the window, nose small and pointed (and red at the tip), jaw chiseled but feminine. A cream colored cable knit scarf shields her neck from the cold, contrasting against her tanned skin and the brown jacket she wears.

          A sigh falls from his lips as he averts his eyes from her and back onto the snow stricken road. Ironically unluckily for Ben, he's hitting every _green_ light there is, leaving him without a few extra moments to spend ogling. But he supposes it's for the best. His mother always told him that staring was rude and that just because his father did it didn't mean he should, too. And Ben wants nothing more than to be _nothing_ like his father. Yet, he can't help himself today.

          He's thankful that she doesn't catch his prying eyes, but positively _ungrateful_ when she finally stands as the bus pulls off to a new stop. Briefly, he hopes she's just adjusting or maybe even moving closer to the front. But hope, he's found in his lifetime, breeds eternal misery.

          Ben watches as three regulars get on, and three buns get off.

_____

          He doesn't want this girl to consume his thoughts for the remainder of that day and into the evening, but she does and he _allows_ it. _This_ , he finds, could be considered a little creepy. _Then again_ , Ben supposes, _a pretty face can do that to a person._  She certainly posses a pretty face, it's undeniable. But surely he shouldn't be so interested in a girl he's seen once for all of fifteen minutes and surely there are prettier.(If there are, he hasn't seen them.) Ben muses silently, kicking closed the door of his fridge, teeth cracking off the cap of a cold beer as he plops into the worn chair of his living room, toeing off his shoes and loosening the buttons of his shirt. 

          Today's newspaper is folded in one hand, a heavily chewed pencil in the other. The light illuminates only a small portion of the tiny room but it's enough for Ben to be able to finish a game of Sudoku and begin a crossword puzzle. Activities in the paper have always been a guilty pleasure of Ben's from crosswords to comics. Perhaps he'd picked it up from watching his father (on mornings his father decided to grace he and his mother with his presence) pen through crosswords and skim over headlining stories and the sports section. 

          Suddenly, Ben loses interest on 7 Across when he comes to the realization that he's more like his father than he'd thought. _An old man sitting at home alone in his recliner drinking a beer, reading and playing games with his daily newspaper._ How utterly _boring._ Tossing the paper to the side, Ben's mind drifts to Hux, his childhood bully turned _frenemy_. Hux likes the paper. What's was so wrong about Ben liking it, too? There were plenty of differences between the two men. And Ben immediately, reluctantly, found one; Hux is likely getting laid right about now. Ben...he's going to _lay_ himself in his bed in a short while and catch a good night's rest.

          Hux is an absolute asshole and Ben is curious as to when this "Karma" is going to swing around a kick the shit out of him. Ben cares not for past playground problems so much as he does more recent events. He still isn't over the job he lost to Hux all because of how dirty he plays. He used to push ben into the dirt and Ben now realizes it was for good reason because the prick dusted the dirt from Ben and used it against him. He grits his teeth,  _hoping and hoping_ that the ginger fuck having the _grandest_ of times living the life he stole from Ben Solo. 

          The television draws his mind from his father, Hux, his love of newspapers for at least an hour, channels switching between some Adam Sandler movie and the News. Ben was a fan, he decided, The Wedding Singer a favorite of his. But he was enduring the second installment of Grown Ups now, also deciding that the actor seems to be making the same movie over and over. Who was Ben to judge, living the same days over and over with the same schedule. Was he really this desperate to keep his thoughts away from the girl? He must be if he's taking the time to compare and contrast himself to Adam Sandler.

          A thumb presses down on his remote, turning the channel once more and checking the weather for tomorrow. He audibly groans when he sees the extended forecast and finds that as the temperatures decline, the chances of snow incline. There's another quick decision he makes and that is that he would much rather be thinking of the pretty girl than the cold or anything else that's been engrossing his mind this evening.

          And so, he does.

          With a grunt, Ben is up off of his chair, thinking of her uniquely styled hair as he places his empty beer bottle beside the sink. He'll toss them out later. He thinks of her dimples and just how much more pronounced they would be if she had smiled with her teeth as he's headed to brush his teeth. Did she have nice teeth? He thinks of her brown leather jacket and cream scarf when he strips down to his boxers and socks, slipping into the comfort of his bed. Funnily enough, he detests the cold, but can't bring himself to sleep with pants and shirts on as he finds it highly uncomfortable. And then he wonders if she sleeps bundled up in clothes or with nothing on at all.

          It's not meant to pique his curiosity in a sexual way, but Ben is suddenly enticed, staring into the darkness of his room as he thinks of what she might slip into for bed. If she wears the same thing each night or invests in frilly laces to decorate her body in. Ben feels his cheeks flush, skin tightening and grimaces at his gutter damned thoughts as his head hits the pillow and his limbs tangle in the layers of sheets and blankets. 

          He shouldn't think of her like that and he doesn't mean to. He doesn't even know her name and he's wondering whether or not she sleeps naked. Ben sighs and now knows that he really has nothing better to think about than some innocent passenger on his bus. Ever since he was a child, Ben's had a curious mind and slightly obsessive behavior. His mother, father, and uncle know first hand. Though, he's loath to admit it seeing as he hardly thinks he has any issues. Ben merely believes that when he puts his mind to something, he remains dedicated. 

          Rolling onto his stomach, arms snake around a pillow he's had for well over ten years now. It's lumpy and discolored from God only knows what, but he won't throw it away. His pillow is the last thing he thinks of before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

 _____

          He rolls, as if in rewind (and slow motion), out of bed seemingly in the blink of an eye since shutting them the evening before. _That_ is the worst part.  His morning is the same; shower, shave, coffee, breakfast, get dressed, head to work. Actually, that isn't true. He adds an extra step. **Contact Lenses**. Which have proven to be a bit more tedious than simply slipping on a pair of glasses.

          It's the busiest from the wee hours of the early morning until about ten when everyone's gotten to work. It seems to go by quickly only to drag until the late afternoon when he's relieved. That time has yet to arrive and he's counting down the minutes until it does. In the meantime, however, he notes that the snow is plowed from the roads, leaving the dark tar path clear.

          _Maybe they'll salt the roads, be more prepared for this shit_ , he thinks. But the townships in which he travels are about as productive as a lit candle under water. He's immune to the potholes making up the streets now after four years on the job even though he thinks they should've been filled by now. The holes have been there since before Ben began driving buses, slowly but surely eroding deeper and wider. It won't ever happen. He'll be driving on the surface of the Moon (though, the Moon might've been a smoother surface to drive upon than these roads) until he retires...or until he finds himself a better job. That probably won't happen either...

          Eyes drift to the blue numbers on the clock. **12:32**. He's sat at a red light when he realizes about this time yesterday was when the young woman hopped on from the bus stop at Sky and Walker. Ben's close, his next stop. Jaw clenched, he stiffens, hues darting between the car before him and the stop. His body is tense with anticipation for something as insignificant as a girl getting on the bus.

          Oh, but she really _isn't_ insignificant and he can see her standing at the stop sign, rummaging through her messenger bag. Ben could spot the difference in hues from her jacket and bag to her hair and how each color seemed to clash well together--- _Get a grip, Solo_. He's acting like a God damn school girl. Ben forced his head forward, watching the doors and the young woman from his peripheral vision.

          She isn't the first to get on like she was the previous day. But the newcomer flashing Ben his pass draws his attention in the direction of which he is trying to avoid for his own sake. The trench coat clad man passes through and the brunette bounds up the stairs, sporting the same three buns and a slightly different attire than yesterday. Ben's on edge at the ways she bounces up the stairs, both hoping she doesn't trip and wanting to watch her hop up each level again. 

          He utters no greeting as she shows him her pass but he does tear his eyes from her briefly to see if he can spot a name upon the paper. If there is a name, it's sheathed beneath her thumb. Her nails are painted green, likely for the holidays. The girl is looking down upon him when he tilts his head upwards. Her chin disappears into her cream scarf, pink lips, thankfully, just visible for him to witness that she's sporting that same smile as yesterday.

          Ben manages something akin to a smile. Or so he hopes. From her perspective,his full lips are tightly locked, just barely quirked upward into something short of a lopsided grin.

          "Yup," Ben mumbles, unsure of exactly why he said "yup", if he even uttered the word to it's fullest extent, in the first place. But, like he'd intended, she takes it as the go ahead to find a seat but not before smiling at him. And like the day before, his vision follows her, eyes squinting in concentration as if he were playing Tetris, trying to guide her to the perfect spot. It works. _Beginners luck_. 

          His days are still the same as the one before and the one before the last, so on and so forth, but he wakes each morning both brimming with excitement to see her face and fear of _not_. This girl has been added to his daily schedule. No, not quite in the way he'd prefer, but each day at exactly 12:34 pm, Ben makes his stop at Sky and Walker, opens his bus doors, and watches the girl practically fly up the three stairs. He doesn't tire of it, but rather, looks forward to seeing her even if majority of it is spent through a reflection. She boards, flashes her pass to him, and smiles her closed lipped smile.

          Until one day, she doesn't.

          Ben isn't disappointed when there's a minor shift in the swing of things because she's traded her signature smile for a bright, toothy grin that spans from cheek to cheek, igniting her prominent dimples. Ben swears he's looking directly into the sun itself and he's reminded of just how much he craves the warmth of Spring and Summer. But for now, her smile is more than enough. 

          


	2. Mardi Gras

          It’s February 17th when Ben finds out her name is Rey. No, he hasn’t built up an ounce of courage in the two months she’s been riding the bus to find out this information by striking conversation with her, but by the grace of his contacts and ogling eyes. 

          Ben notes the name tag pinned to her shirt, peaking from beneath that same leather jacket she’s been wearing all Winter thus far. At first, he only sees **R** and his mind is left to run wild with names beginning with the letter **R**.

_Rachel, Rita, Reese, Rhonda, Rihanna..._

          She shifts, torso rotated so that she may procure her bus pass, giving Ben a clear view of the name. He blinks, thinking of just how lucky he is to have caught that. But he hopes he is equally lucky and isn’t the one being caught eyeing her chest. She doesn’t seem to notice, but if she does, she doesn’t call him out on it. For this, and for the name tag, he is thankful.

_R E Y_

          He likes it. It’s simplistic and pretty, fitting of a girl whom Ben compares her to sunshine itself. (Oddly convenient, too when he thinks about it.)  _A Rey of Sunshine_ , he thinks, grinning to himself. It’s sickening really, his fascination with her. _That_ and the horrendous pun he’s made. He won’t ever speak it aloud for the sake of his pride (and because it’s positively _cheesy_ ). But what's he to compare a young woman with a smile like Rey's to if not the sun?

          Ben’s reminded of the pun each time her name tag comes into view, (each time his eyes go hunting for it just above the swell of her breasts.) He pushes it from his head every time it makes its way in, deciding that there are certainly more aspects of Rey to pick up on. 

          Today, she wears her name tag. This must mean she works. But where? Grocery store, hotel staff, retail? The possibilities are endless so long as they remain in the category of jobs that require a name tag to be worn. 

_____

          It wasn’t intended to become a guessing game. He plays with such vigor, it's almost as if he's competing for the Gold against no one but himself. Ben really isn’t the type to _play_ games (aside from the occasional Sudoku) but he seems to occupy himself with one anyway. Each day he sees her, he gathers what information he can based on what she’s wearing, carrying, the expression she wears on her gentle features. 

          He finds that this game is both interesting and torturous all in the same thought. But he’s all too good at coming up with different scenarios and ideas of who this girl is when she steps off of the bus. Because he _knows_ she’s living a life beyond the rattling (and in much need of a Windex wash down) doors. She could be anyone. She could be one of the girls he's thought her to or none of them at all and the latter keeps him playing almost like a gambler with an addiction to wagering his luck (and then some) on the line.

          Ben huffs, wondering when he’ll actually pluck up the nerve to ask her to dinner or even coffee. _I can’t even say “hello”_. His jaw cranks, digits gripping harshly at the leather wheel when he comes to the notion that, that day may never come.

          He isn’t the most audacious and he’s stubborn as hell. Even when it pertains to whether or not he’s going to hold himself back from something as simple as asking a girl on a date, something he really does want. It’s not like he hasn’t done it in the past (asked a girl on a date). But for some reason, she’s different. And while he keeps playing this one man game, he wants nothing more than to quit having to infer and find out about her first hand.

          He just wants it to go _right_.

          But Ben doesn’t know the _right_ way to go about this or even if there _IS_ a right way. Of course, he’s received unwanted advice from his father who is far more flirtatious and charming than Ben believes he himself is. Not that Ben thinks that highly of Han Solo’s character and capabilities. Needless to say, Han’s advice has been long forgotten. Well, it would have been forgotten by now if Ben had listened in the first place.

          Like many other conversations with his father, he tends to zone out during them. He supposed he should thank his father for teaching him just how to do that. Leia Organa-Solo hounds her husband for sport and the tactic of blissful ignorance, Han insists, is self taught. But Ben insists that it comes naturally and cheers silently from the sidelines.(Oh, he does love when his five foot tall mom reprimands his six foot tall father, leaving him with his tail between his legs.) 

          An almost indiscernible grin finds its way to Ben’s lips and he’s temporarily cured of his insecurities.

_____

          When she boards on a new day, at a new time, and earlier time, she’s carrying text books against her chest. There’s moderately less pep in her ordinarily lively step as she climbs on which does not go unnoticed to Ben regardless of how minuscule. He regards her excessive amount of text books which he knows weigh _excessively_ more than a books should and is glad she doesn’t push herself. 

          Again, like many a time before, he’s staring in the direction of her chest. Not (entirely) because he’s a pervert, but because he wants to see what’s written on the covers. They seem to be literature books and possibly a math and a science textbook but Ben can’t decipher. 

          It dawns on him swiftly that she’s a student and he prays to God she isn’t a high school student. But then, just as swiftly, it dawns on him that it’s a weekday at 12:30 and she isn’t in school. 

          Perhaps he should brew a stronger cup of coffee for himself in the morning. He supposed he would rather worry about what her age is than pay no heed to whether or not the girl, _woman_ , he should say, that he, to put it in it’s most lewd terms, wouldn’t mind fucking into his mattress is legal or not.

          Still, she looks young and he wonders what year of college she’s in among a surplus of other things like _what she’s majoring in, what she wants to do with her life, what is her favorite subject, if she’s single..._

          An elderly couple stroll hand in hand across the pedestrian walkway Ben is currently stopped at. _What if she isn’t single?_   He could groan, but he represses the urge and the beginnings of a rumble in his chest as there are people sat directly behind him. That’s hardly a noise anyone would want to hear coming from the man driving the bus, the man controlling the machine.

          He wants to give himself the benefit of the doubt and say that she is single but he truly can’t say. She’s too pretty. _Beautiful_. Any man would gladly have her if she accepted, he’s sure. He weighs in reasons she is and isn’t single in attempt to put himself at ease. But Lord, why are his boxers in such a jumble?

          Ben doesn’t know her. He’s said all of one word to her and she hasn’t said a word to him.

          She isn’t his, he isn’t hers. 

          However, there is something so tragic about failure before a shot’s been taken. 

          He’s felt that ache before and he doesn’t look forward to feeling it again. And so, he abandons the subject with two last reasons as to why Rey is single; she rode the bus on Valentine’s Day (wouldn’t she have had her boyfriend drive her around on that day of all days?) and because Ben is (eventually) going to ask her on a date. 

          The second reason he mentally lists isn’t quite a _reason_ , per say. And neither is the first. This, he knows. But to tell himself that he’s going to take her out means it’s going to happen sooner or later. He wants for it not to be the latter. Besides, once Ben sets his mind on something, he commits.

          He taps to distract himself, to keep from staring, from thinking. Taps his fingers, taps his leg, taps his feet. No music plays on the speakers of the bus but he wishes there'd been something to listen to other than the noises of the engine or the occasional hacking up of a lung from a passenger. He twitches, mentally aware that he shouldn't look up. He shouldn't seek her reflection and especially not as often and as long as he does. 

          Ben reaches a new personal best when he holds off for a whole three minutes before looking upward, pretending he's checking the cars that surround him. When he does find the mirror, there are already a set of hues staring back at him.

          They are Rey's, big and bright. Ben blinks in response, surprised to find her staring. She shies away, her tanned skin flushing a pretty shade red at the apples of her cheeks. The sight is so lovely he has a difficult time turning away. But he's glad he gives her the time to recoup because another three minutes passes when he finds Rey starting again.

          As her cheeks turn red for a second time, the light turns green and Ben thinks it's safe to add a third, more substantial reason to his list.

_____

          A trite, vocal-less version of some old Bon Jovi plays, echoing in his kitchen to which he recognizes as the tone of his cell phone. It vibrates, violent as it travels the surface of his round kitchen table to the edge where he fears it may take a leap of faith onto the tile. With quick reflexes, he catches its fall just in time, scanning the tiny screen for a name he soon finds reads _Gary Work_ and flips (yes, flips) up the phone to answer his colleague's call.

          “Hello?” Ben answers, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he opens the fridge and reaches for a beer before he heads back into his living room. He’s in the midst of watching the extended forecast even though he watched it just the evening before and the evening before that. It’s merely routine at this point.

          It's out of the ordinary for Ben to receive any calls from anyone other than his mother and occasionally a middle aged woman informing him that he's won a free, all expense paid trip to the Bahamas. _Ben wishes_...before he calls bullshit and hangs up.

          “Hey, Benny Boy! Listen man, I know this is kinda short notice, but it’s my wife and I’s 25th is comin’ up just around the corner and I wanna take her to New Orleans for Mardi Gras next week. Would’ya mind pickin’ up my night shifts ‘til I get back?” 

 _Anniversary_ , Ben concludes.

          He fights the hankering need to ask how he’s been with another person for so long and still wants to go on romantic getaways together. Perhaps he can't seem to fathom a happy and healthy marriage because of his own mother and father’s rocky relationship. Have his parents ever celebrated an anniversary? Oh yeah, perhaps once when Ben was younger. Looking back on it, he could scoff. 

          _Happy 20th anniversary! Here's to 20 more years of arguing and living separately for months at a time! Cheers._

          And yet, they're still together over 30 years down the line and he guesses that's something to commend.

          Ben’s only worked a handful of night shifts in his time with the company. His eyes are easier to use in daylight and he wants to use his shit night vision as an excuse to decline but he knows Gary’s a hard worker and his wife, Sharon, is one of the nicest people anyone could meet. _And_ , it’s only temporary.

          There’s a pause, Ben’s nodding his head to himself as if to coax himself into finalizing his decision. It works.

          “Yeah. Yeah, man. I’ll work those shifts for you, no problem.” Ben agrees. He had been seeing Rey less and less during the days. 

          _School, probably._  

          Who knows? Maybe Rey will be taking buses at later times after her classes are over, after Ben is usually already clocked out and headed home. 

          Gary laughs jubilantly in response before speaking. “Thank you! I’m gonna let you go ‘cause I know it’s your day off, kid. But I’ll text you the dates. Thanks again, Ben. I really appreciate it.”

          "It's no problem, Gary." Ben insists before offering, "You and Sharon have a nice vacation."

          Gary thanks him one last time and they both bid one another a "good night" and the call is over. Ben doesn't regret giving up his leisurely evenings. In fact, it'll be nice to sleep in. 

          It feels nice to do something nice and Ben can’t deny that’s it’s also nice to be told “thank you”. It’s not why he does it, however. Not for the “thank you”, but because it’s the right thing to do. And would it kill him to switch up his schedule a bit?

_____

          He believes he might have something comparable to a sixth sense when Rey, donning a single ponytail that bounces with each move she makes, adjusts her messenger bag as she enters the bus during his first night shift. It’s a fleeting thought that doesn’t last for very long before reason steps in, reason he’s already vindicated on a past evening. 

          She looks confused for a brief moment (likely wondering why he’s working now rather than having worked during the day) before she’s flashing him a grin and a quick wave of her fingers that are clenching the leather strap of her bag slung over her shoulder.  Her lips part and it's almost as if she's going to speak, to say the word "hi". But no sound is released, only mouthed. Perhaps she's ill and has lost her voice. It's a wonder he hasn't gotten sick yet. Nonetheless, he’s happy to see her, returning her smile with one of his own. But he doesn’t part his own lips to utter a word.

          To himself, however, he wishes the sun were still out so he could see each feature of her lovely face in high definition. For now, the florescent lighting of the bus is enough and Ben doesn’t complain because she's equally as lovely in the night as she is in the day. He takes all he can get and basks in the light of her smile to compensate for the lack of light in the sky.

          Brown optics lift to rest on the reflection, watching her glide past the chairs pressed against either side of the front of the bus and sit in her usual place in perfect sight. The lights do not flicker off until she's seated and he's glad it's a safety requirement because she's sporting tight jeans that are doing a shit job at sheathing the pert muscle of her round ass from his viewing pleasure. It's not the first time he's seen her in skin hugging denim and he prays it won't be the last. 

          A noise of approval wants to slip from his mouth but he presses his lips together in a thin line. It's difficult to pry his eyes away to focus on the road ahead but he manages just like he's had to a plethora of times before and just like he'll have to a plethora of more times in the future. He waits, having built up the resistance to stare full force at her mirror image. He hopes to catch her in the act of staring at him again.

          The bus is stopped, road work underway. But, unfortunately, it's not to fill in pot holes. He runs his tongue over his teeth from behind closed lips, waiting for the go ahead from a construction worker. He heard the chatter of passengers. Apparently, there was a waterline break that needs overnight attention. He's mid sigh when he catches something from the corner of his eye. Neck turning, he's face to face with Rey and utterly taken aback.

          She's looking directly into his eyes for less than a millisecond before she averts them to watch the construction, teeth chewing on her lower lip as if she's attempting to suppress her grin, depriving him of it. She takes her good old time in crumbling up a wrapper and tossing it into the trashcan Ben keeps at the front of the bus and lingering for a bit longer than necessary. But Ben was the last person complaining. And just when he thinks she's heading back to her original seat, she steals the seat just opposite Ben, slightly behind him for God only knows why.

          In the dark ride from stop to stop, Ben is sated by the very recent memory of Rey's tight little ass in motion and the way she bites down on the pretty pink flesh of her lip. Especially while she's sitting not four feet from him. Hands grope at the steering wheel, fingers flexing and relaxing steadily, aching to know what her skin would feel like in his palms and digits. The dirty thoughts are striking to Ben, as he's not typically a man of such lechery. 

          Sure, he's had his fair share of women from fucking in seedy bar restrooms against the stalls and atop the sinks to having his cock ridden as he sits on the recliner in his living room, but he's not bringing a new woman home each night nor is he really interested in being on the prowl for any. He can't even recall the last time he touched himself or the last time he even saw a naked woman whether it be on paper or in person. 

          _Fuck_ , he thinks, _I'm a God damn monk like my uncle..._

Ben is celibate as of late. His mother would be proud... _if he were fifteen_. But Ben is going to be thirty one not too far in the future and his mother asks him, when they do speak, when she's getting grandchildren. If Ben can help it, **never**. But he's explained, more than once, that he's not even dating to which his mother lays before him a novel's worth of women's names of her friends' daughters and nieces. He wanted to tell her at the time that he'd beaten her to the list, already having slept with a few of them. He opted against sharing the private information with his mother for the sake of saving his head from being slapped.

          A politician's daughter or relative, in his experiences, are just as appealing as politics themselves. 

He glances to Rey who's face is illuminated by the light of her phone screen. Now Rey, on the other hand, he's found to be more interesting than any of those women and he hasn't even conversed with her yet. He supposes the mystery is aiding in just how interesting she is but Ben thinks there's more to her than meets the eyes she's stupidly easy on. It's ridiculous he's infatuated and if he could stop it, he would. But Ben can't. Just like he can't bring himself to tear his eyes away from her even in the dark, let alone while driving. What is more striking to him than lewd thoughts is the fact that he wants more from Rey than just to dig his paws into the curves of her body.

          Muscle memory takes the reigns to leave Ben in his head for a short while, red lights turning to green, turning to yellow, and back to red again. Bus stops coming and passing, passengers entering and exiting. Though, not too many at this hour on a Wednesday night. 

          Rey's drop off spot comes quicker than he expects with the lack of traffic. Much to his chagrin, she's standing to make for the exit. But he won't stop her from leaving and instead, makes the most of her exit and watches her leave in those skin tight jeans, bidding them and Rey an internal "goodbye" until she honors his vision with them once more. 

          Just before her boot clad feet touch the sidewalk, she turns her head over her shoulder and he almost thinks she's going to speak just as he had prior. But what she does not say in words, she makes up for with a sweet smile directed at him.

_____

          His week flies. Ben's enjoying each night he works, each night he sees Rey. He's considering perhaps adding an extra evening shift or two even after Gary returns simply because he likes it more than he expects to. Rey has a bit to do with this change of heart. Even if it is a little more of a challenge to see at night, with how relaxing it is to drive when rush hour passes is just about worth it and even a tad therapeutic. Though, Ben doesn't need therapy for anything. However, he could use a nice vacation...

          Gary's vacation is nearing its end and Ben can't help but be jealous of the warmth they're surely experiencing in Louisiana. It's still cold up North thanks to the almighty Groundhog who's capable of dictating the weather with his shadow. _But the Leader of their country doesn't believe in Global Warming_...It's dumb of him to question it. Of course Global Warming is fake and the fate of Spring and Winter is held in the grubby paws of a Groundhog.

          He knows February is coming to and end and March is on its way but the date is of little importance to Ben so long as Rey is boarding the bus. And she does, their schedules seeming to assimilate to one another's. 

          She wears leggings two days in a row; a grey pair and a black pair. He can't decide which he likes more, only that he likes them just as much, if not more than the jeans. They don't make another appearance. That is, until, a Saturday evening, the last day of the month. 

          _Mardi Gras._

          Ben's never celebrated the festivities. He knows little of the holiday other than it's an excuse to get plastered and eat donuts. Which, he can't say, are terrible celebratory activities. Their small town is alive with college students and local drunks crawling from pub to pub. Ben watches from the comfort of the driver's seat. It's evening's like these, evenings where people are drinking their weight in boos, that public transportation is easily accessible. Though, he's not exactly delighted with the idea of carting a bus full of boisterous drunks, even less so when he pulls off to a stop so conveniently located in front of a bar called _The Cantina_. 

          He barely acknowledges the three rowdy college kids as they board; a male followed by two females. He can hear that they're giggling like schoolgirls, and from the corner of his eye, he sees the first two helping one another up the stairs to keep from falling flat on their faces while it looks as though the last of the trio has her hands full pushing the both of them into the bus. The two sloppiest of the three are already heading to the back of the bus, the third paying the fair. 

          "I'm sorry about them. I'm going to try and keep them under control until we get to our stop. You won't have to put up with us for long." The voice is feminine and certainly not hailing from this side of the pond. He dares not compare the accent to Hux's. _No_ , this isn't the time to think about Hux. There is never a time to think about Hux.

          Her timber is enough to draw Ben's full attention and soon, he's met with the soft green eyes of Rey and he feels the air catch in his chest and his throat swell but it's well worth the sweet sound of her clear voice in his ears. He doesn't know just how to respond at first, staggered upon hearing her speak for the first time in two and a half months of sharing gazes, smiles, and awkward and almost diminutive, but endearing, interactions.

          If his mother were present, and he doesn't really want to think of her now but does anyway, she'd tap his jaw and tell him to close his mouth before he catches flies or better yet, _use it_. He pushes himself out of his stupor in attempts to articulate a reply. To his surprise, _again_ , he does.

          "I'd rather them get a ride from me than drive or walk home on their own." Ben manages, eyes boring into Rey's. The corners of her mauve lips perk up into a gentle smile and Ben anxiously awaits her to speak again.

          She grants him that much.

          "Thanks. I'll make sure we aren't too much of a nuisance." Rey replies with a wrinkle of her button nose, swaying for a moment.

          "You aren't the one I'm worried about." Ben admits in earnest with a shake of his head, softly chuckling. Rey's still standing before him when he looks back up. Her smile's widening and Ben swallows.

          "Right---I should sit so you can drive." Rey blinks and shakes her own head as if to rustle her brain into working like Ben had to not a few moments earlier before starting back to take a seat with her friends. He takes in what he can of her face even as she's turning away and he can't seem to find a bad angle.

          He doesn't look up into the mirror now. Instead, he finds himself turning the rest of his body in his chair, watching her with his own eyes and not through a reflection. Her hair is down, falling in waves over her shoulders, orbs following the length of her hair down to the center of her back until he's faced with her tailbone and the curve of her ass. And _oh_...

          _She's wearing the jeans._  

          Ben forces himself to swivel around in his chair, body tense as he pulls back into the road. She sits farther back than normal and if it were any other night, if she hadn't just spoken to him in her dulcet voice, he would have been upset. But he's not. _Oh no_ , quite the contrary. He's giddy, growing more so when he's faced with the idea that she's going to speak on her way out. 

          The trio are damn near silent. Although, Ben wouldn't know for sure as he's too busy replaying the sound of her voice in his head like a hit classic rock song that plays incessantly on the radio. Unlike a song on the radio, Ben thinks he could listen to her voice those same words over and over again without tiring of it.

          He stops on Sky and Walker, lights switching on and body turning slightly as he hears heels click on the floor of the bus. The petite brunette is lazily saluting as she passes, the dark skinned male following right behind her, laughing at nothing. Nothing that Ben can find to be amusing, at least. And then there's Rey who's jostling around in her bag. It's not the messenger bag, but a smaller black clutch. 

          "Here," She starts, hair falling over her face as she acquires from the clutch three beaded necklaces in green, gold, and purple. Ben's watching her like she's just pulled a rabbit from a top hat. Rey grins, a chuckle falling from those inviting lips of hers as she leans to place the necklaces over his head. They rest against his hammering heart and he's almost sure that he he stares long enough, he would see the beads thumping up and down against his chest.

          "Happy Mardi Gras!" With a short wave of her manicured hand, Rey is starting down the stairs, jogging after her friends. 

          Mardi Gras, he decides almost instantly, is his new favorite holiday.


	3. 1964 Ford Falcon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hihihihi !!! sorry for the wait! i ended up re-planning a bit of the story to add a few more chapters. it's turning out so much longer than i had originally intended, but i hope y'all don't mind! 
> 
> also, this chapter....was going to be longer....and slightly dirtier. but for the sake of the plot, i'm saving dirtier things for the last two chapters! still not sure how i feel about it, but let me know what you guys think! 
> 
> feel free to come and bother me on http://spacesmol.tumblr.com

          It’s April 1st when he first sees Rey outside of a bus by the grace of pure fate and Ben truly believes that the universe is playing a cosmic joke on him. Then again, it really isn’t _that_ huge of a shock that he finds her wading through tables and delivering a trey of food to a family of five in Maz’s Diner. She’s local, from what he can infer, and their town isn’t all too large.

          On top of that, she holds a steady job at the diner. So he supposed it really isn’t _fate_ per say, but **luck**  (and a lack of motivation to make himself something to eat that evening). He wonders how he’s never seen her here before. He doesn’t drive a damn bus all the time. Then again, he doesn’t frequent the diner, but he’s come a few handfuls of times, majority of them in the company of his father who knows Maz personally.

        _Maybe she’s relatively new to the area_ , he ponders the notion.

        Or maybe it’s simply a rarity that Ben Solo goes out other than to work.

        Inhaling deeply through his lips only to purse them, he watches her while approaching the hostess who, even though he’s the only person awaiting to be seated, asks if he would like a table for one or if he’s waiting more from his party. He knows she’s only doing her job and silently thanks her for believing he may have been waiting on more people. Ben tells the blonde, who is called _Abby_ , that it’s the former in response and is, in that moment, made aware of just how few friends he has. The man can’t think of one person who’d have wanted, let alone agreed out of pity, to come out to dinner with him this evening.

        Except for his mother. He’s sure she’s come close to paying him just to have dinner and catch up with her. And Ben doesn’t want to be bought just as much as he doesn’t want to have dinner with his overbearing mother. Another person he thinks of is perhaps Poe Dameron; a top mechanic at his father’s auto body and an old acquaintance. Their relationship was almost nonexistent, but Ben, while he didn’t speak much, didn’t mind when Poe talked his ear off or offered him a beer while on break.

_Ben should call him some time._

       _____

          He’s distraught, like he has been for months now, by Rey. Her hair is tossed up into those strange three buns. All three of which he’s come to adore equally, but decides they are better together for he’s never seen such a hairstyle. Where in the hell did she come up with it?

          Rey's supple body turns and dips, lithe fingers of her petite palms slipping white dishes upon the table top with concentration as she’s responsible for three other dishes that rest on her forearm all while reciting back their orders with a happy smile playing on her lips.

          A comically large form sits itself down upon the wobbly, and slightly too small, wooden chair, fingers grasping the underside of the seat to adjust himself closer to the table. Abby places the menu before Ben. He already knows what he wants without having to scan what’s being offered but he humors her and leans forward to view it anyway, catching the light reflecting off of the laminated card stock, twiddling his thumbs beneath the table.

          Ben is selfish, greedy to hear her voice from across the diner because there’s a chance he’s going to get stuck with the middle-aged server pouring coffee to his right rather than the brunette he’s been pining for from the driver's seat for too long a time. That'd be just Ben's luck, wouldn't it?

          It’s difficult with the sea of chatter and music playing as ambiance, but he manages to hone in as best as he can. And for what? To hear her say the words “fries” and “burger”?

          He’s reminded of his hunger.

          Growling furiously, his stomach is ready to be sated by anything. Ben isn’t picky about his food.

          Abby returns with a damp cloth, drawing Ben’s attention upwards, a sticky looking orange spot (to which had previously remained unnoticed by him) being scrubbed away. He winces and wonders why she hadn’t cleaned him a table first before seating him. But then he remembers what a mess his own house and dismisses the spilled orange soda spot, trading the view for one far more appealing.

          Rey is gliding toward him and he thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. Her lips are parted, showcasing pearly white teeth almost like how velvet curtains part for the star of the show. Her teeth are bright and gleaming, like stars, and Ben is stupidly taken by her smile alone. Though, he believes Rey possesses more starring aspects of her than her teeth alone.

          Like the fan he is, he admires her from his front row seat.

          It’s that same day, April 1st, that Ben Solo grows a metaphorical pair. Though, he doesn’t have a choice because Rey’s his waitress (the blonde, of whom he's managed to forget the name of, just informed him as she finishes up with the stubborn spot of soda stuck to his table) and she’s closing in the space between them until she stands at his side.

        “I know you! How are you this evening?” She speaks first which, Ben thinks, is going to be a recurring event between the two.

        “Well, thank you. How are you?” He asks, knowing their small talk isn’t going to last very long. And Ben is aware that Rey is likely reciting a universal "server" script she's come to learn to mold and improvise for the sake of getting her job done.

        “Good, thanks! Could I get you started off with something to drink?”

          _Just as he predicted._

         “I’ll have a Coke.”

         Her expression contorts into that of mild surprise, lips pursing as her eyebrows raise and lower. It piques Ben’s interest more so than before and he’s slightly confused, yet amused.

        “What?” The vaguest of smirks twitches are the corners of his mouth.

        “Nothing. I just...pegged you as a Pepsi kind of guy.” She explains with a shrug of her shoulders.

_Ben skipped to conclusion all too soon about his previous inkling._

        “My dad was a Pepsi addict. Always had it in bulk in the kitchen, in the garage, at work. I got sick of it and started on Coke.” He too, shrugs.

        A melodic string of giggles tumble from between her lips and Ben is almost too absorbed in the sound that he doesn’t realize just _why_ she’s giggling in the first place. _Almost_. The lady has a sense of humor…

        There’s a sigh and a few nods of his head as he makes to correct himself. “That…sounded bad.”

        “Addictions _are_ bad.” She quips, teasing him. Ben willingly takes the brunt of it.

        “I can’t argue there.”

         She looks away, smile fading just slightly as she procures a pad and pen from her back pocket. He wonders about the sudden shift in mood, searching her face.

        “I’m sorry, you must be hungry—of course you are. Why else you be out to eat? And here I am talking your ear off instead of taking your—“ Rey cuts off her babbling and Ben, who’s never found babbling really all that endearing ever, wishes she hadn’t.

        “Oh, no! By all means, talk my ear off.” Ben insists.

        The apples of Rey’s cheeks rise, creating creases beneath her large eyes. “Do you know what you want?”

        _Other than for you to sit down and talk with me?_ By God…if that was the most Han Solo-esque thing to think. Ben doesn’t even imagine saying the words aloud. His father is more brazen than Ben has ever been or ever will be. And if his father were here, not married, and Ben’s age, he’d have had no issue to tossing that line to Rey. Hell, he’d even wink. But Ben does a well enough job of making himself look like an idiot without either tactic.

        “I’ll have the Rib Eye Steak.”

        Rey scribbles on the pad, simultaneously asking which fixings he wants and how he likes his meat cooked and then she's off to put in his order.

        The man is left at his table to people watch, a pastime he doesn’t quite care for, but still can’t manage to look away. Perhaps if Abby ( _that's her name!_ ) had left the soda stain on the table, he could have stared at that to pass the time he waits until Rey emerges from behind the counter carrying a tall glass of dark liquid, placing it down on a coaster before him and sliding a straw beside the drink. Ben thinks to open his mouth and start a conversation (like he has thought many a time) but is shot down by the wave of customers crawling through the entrance.

          He doesn't see her again until she's serving his meal.

         _____

          Dinner is fine, savory and satiating to his appetite and a hell of a lot better than the frozen dinners he so often (too often) pops into his microwave or the cup of noodles he’s so incredibly tired of. Ben doesn’t treat himself often and declines her offer of desert, but wishing she would offer him more of her time instead. It couldn't be too much to ask of her. Especially considering that the late night workers began to pour in and take over.

         It's a proposition that remains unsaid. 

         They finish things off with the bill, bidding one another “good night”. Ben doesn’t think to leave without giving her a (more than) decent tip of fifty dollars even though his meal and drink only cost him $24.36. He thinks nothing of it. She’s a fine worker from what he’s seen, attentive and kind. And he’s almost positive he witnessed a look of disappointment flash over Rey’s features as she bused down the table belonging to the family of five who, from what Ben can tell, probably didn’t tip her.

          _ **Assholes**_ …

         The parents, of course. Not the children. And Ben feels the need to make up for what they lack in common courtesy toward a human being who’s serving them their food and tending to their needs as they enjoy their meal.

         Ben Solo might be presumed a taciturn asshole himself (even he knows he can be an ass at times), but he’s sympathizing with the young woman, knowing what it’s like to work hard at a job involving customer service. And while he declined any and all help from his mother and father after promptly deciding to up and move out of their home and quit his job at Falcon Auto Body, and he knows it’s almost hypocritical of him, he wants to toss her a few extra bucks just in case she needs a little help. Hopefully, she isn't having trouble...

         He’s paying off his check at the front counter, thick fingers dipping into the bowl of mints and popping them into his pocket for later when he hears her voice loud and clear.

         “Finn, I’m going to bus this last table and then I’m heading out!” She warns, slinging a damp white rag over her shoulder.

          _Rey's shift is over_.

          Ben think's to wait for her by the exit or just outside. That wouldn't be creepy, right? He only wants to talk with her. But then he's reminded of how he likes to go home after his shift and relax. Rey would surely want to do the same and so, he opts against the waiting and instead, heads outside into the gentle chill of the evening. 

          Hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he observes the nightlife. It's quiet for a Friday but he's not in the heart of town. There isn't much here anyway aside from old Maz's place and maybe the roller skating rink on Jefferson---

         “Oi! What’s this?”

          Thrust from his recollection of night's spent at the roller skating rink as a young kid, Ben turns upon hearing the powerful voice to turn in the direction from which it came to find Rey storming his way, waving a twenty, two tens, a five, and five ones at him angrily. Almost like an old man rattling his fist at young children riding their bikes on his lawn.

          This isn't the time to laugh. Not when she looks ready to beat him with her clenched fists.

         “Your tip…?” Ben explains, quirking a brow, confused as to why she’s borderline furious.

         “ _Fifty dollars_?" She spits. "Your _meal_ didn’t even cost this much. I don’t need that big a tip. Do you think I’m struggling or something?”

         Ben merely blinks. Only _she_ would argue with a customer over something such as being  _over-tipped_. Any normal person would have pocketed the money and silently thanked their tipper. But Rey, Ben concludes shortly thereafter, is not normal. Not to him.

         “N-no, not at all! I just-I saw that the family you were waiting on didn’t leave you a tip and wanted to—shit, I don’t know!” Ben exclaims with a dramatic shrug of his shoulders. “I wanted to be nice and tip you!”

          That wasn't entirely the truth. He did briefly think to wonder if she were having money issues. Not that it was any of his concern.

          Her brows crease for a moment before her face softens slightly, indignant attitude melting away just as the snow had done in weeks past.

         “Well, you didn’t have to do that.” She looks slightly guilty for raging, digging the toe of her worn shoe into the pavement. “I can handle myself, you know.” She adds a moment later, looking up into Ben’s eyes to assure him that she’s very much capable of taking care of herself.

         “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

         They’re silent for a few moments, watching as people pass by the storefronts, sharing glances at the couple passing.

         “Do you want to go and get desert?” Ben suddenly, finally, blurts out.

         “I thought you didn’t want desert.”

         “I—“

         “ _Yes_.” She’s cutting him off and he’s surprised her answer wasn’t the exact opposite. “There’s a bakery off of Washington Avenue. They don’t close for another hour.”

         Ben’s still in shock that he’d verbally thrown up on her and she didn’t cower away or scoff and storm off. Rey steps directly in front of him, cocking her head to the side.

         “Come on. It’s my treat.” She offers a small lopsided grin, waving the money once more.

         He snorts. “You’re going to pay for desert with the tip money I gave you?”

         “Did you think I was going to save it for a rainy day? Now let’s go before they close.”

         They’re off, walking side by side as couples do. Though, his hands are deeply shoved into pockets and Rey's are swinging at her side and they are quite far from being a couple. Ben’s not even sure if she considers their excursion to be a date. Hell, HE doesn’t know if he should consider this a date.

          They're just a couple of people.

         But now they’re sat across from one another in the quaint bakery, Rey sipping on a late and biting (shamelessly) into a chocolate croissant and Ben sipping on black coffee of his own, an apple pastry laying on a napkin at the table they share. One bite in and Ben, begrudgingly, admits that his mother's are far superior to the cinder block before him.

         He's known her first name for weeks now ever since he picked her up at her stop and she sported the same name tag she does now.

         “Do you have a last name?” Ben Asks, suddenly realizing that _Of course she has a last name you idiot._  He winces, but awaits her reply.

         “No, actually.”

          _Well, shit._

         “What do you mean “no”?” He snorts despite he answer.

          "My last name is _No_." She insists.

         A thick dark brow cocks upward. Rey wears a serious and unfaltering expression for a good six seconds before a bright grin splits her lips, pulling on her cheeks and concaving in small indents on either side of her face, a giggle slipping out of her mouth.

          Ben, confused, manages a small chuckle.

         “I'm teasing you." There's a pause, fingers grasping the circumference of the clear plastic cup before her. "’Dunno what my real last name is. I grew up in the foster care system.” She explains, no hint of sadness gracing her features.

         Lips lazily form the shape of an _O_ , unaware of just how to respond to being told this personal information. Perhaps she doesn’t think it to be personal so much as it is just a part of her. She wears it on her sleeve as she does her name tag on her chest.

         “But if you have to know," Rey continues, "my foster father’s last name was Plutt. It’s not really a name I’d like to go by.”

         Ben grimaces, the name isn’t becoming...but strangely familiar.

         “Because it sounds strange?” He’s blunt and Rey quirks a brow in response.

         He regrets opening his big mouth. It isn't the first time.

         “Because he was a shit foster father.” She retorts with a humorless chuckle. “And it sounds strange, yes.

         It does not qualm the uneasiness that’d formed in his belly. Ben Solo isn’t used to jokes. But now he’s uneasy for an entirely new reason being that Rey is an orphan. Though, he supposes he can’t complain because Rey seems fine about it and now, he’s got a new place to see her other than his rear view mirror.

          "What about you?"

          "What _about_ me?" Ben repeats. Does she want to know about his familial background (or lack thereof)?

          "Your name. What is it?" 

          It had only just dawned on him that this is their first real conversation. He's been seeing her for months, sharing words here and there, but now, they were meeting officially first time. 

          "Ben Solo." He finally responds.

          "Solo? As in Han Solo?"

          "He's my father." Ben, reluctantly, admits, wondering how she would have known him or of him.

          "No shit...my foster father and he used to do a bit of business. He owns a junk yard and your father would come looking for parts or offering them up for Unkar to sell." 

          He's taken aback by the common connection they share. He doesn't know her and she doesn't know him, yet both of their father's (for lack of a better term) seemed to have known each other. Ben exhales, leaning back into the chair as he recalls the previously forgotten times he's traveled to the yard with his father as a kid, as a teen and young adult. He was naturally uninterested in junk just as he was uninterested in working for his father. Needless to say, he didn't pay too much attention. He only wanted to get home and lock himself in his room or go for a long drive.

          It was a shabby place---a junk yard very true to its name. Plutt, from what he remembers, was a greasy middle aged man, large, like an unappetizing soggy biscuit.

          The last name, for  _Unkar_ at least _,_  is becoming.

          He wasn't too tall which made him look all the more round. And he was angry. All the time. Well, at least the times Ben had met him. Always grumbling, always bargaining, always shouting at the kid playing in the---

          A palpitation springs into his heart as he stares into her face as a whole. If they had the capability, his eyes would burn holes into her head with the heat of the intensity in which he watched her.

          "Ford Falcon." 

          It's all he says.

          But it's more than enough for Rey's face to light up. She knows.

          "The silver 1964 Ford Falcon." He breathes the words as if in sheer amazement. Though, the car is not why he's amazed. Not like his father was...

          "It was just the body, didn't have any wheels. A grey interior! Absolute hunk of garbage." Rey chimes in and Ben can't help but grin himself.

          "I used to play in that thing all the time, anyway. Unkar would always yell at me to get out. IT'S MINE, he'd shout!" 

          A laugh bubbles in his chest, up his throat, and pours out of his mouth. He finds her imitation amusing, but really, he's laughing at the irony of this all. She laughs with him for a few seconds before she's wondering if there is something else he's finding to be hilarious that he isn't sharing.

          "My impression wasn't that funny..." 

          His calloused hand runs over his face as if to wipe the remnants of the long overdue laughter away. "I thought you were a boy." Ben admits. Rey is obviously confused.

          "You used to wear tee shirts and baseball caps. I could hardly see you in that car so much as I could hear you making engine noises." Her confusion fades to something much softer and happier.

          Ben doesn't speak, but silently reminisces about the little boy, who is actually Rey and always has been, with her hair hidden beneath a tanned baseball cap and her boyish figure beneath boyish clothing. Ben had hardly regarded her back then---just a kid fucking around and goofing off. But oh, was Ben jealous. He'd have rather been doing that than assisting his dad with business. 

          Awestruck by the simplistically intertwined pasts they shared, Ben gazes at Rey who gazes right back. 

          "I can't believe you thought I was a boy." She snorts.

          Ben shrugs his broad shoulders. "I don't think you're a boy now...at least I hope not."

          Jeez, the laughing must've loosened him up.

          Rey laughs, her head falling back briefly before she leans forward to flick his arm. He doesn't mind the contact. In fact, he's rather her have punched his arm. She was close, or so it'd seemed, to punching him earlier that night. And it was a bit sick of him to want it, but the flick was nothing and he's longed to touch her.

          "I can _promise_ you that I'm not a boy. Just because I wore tee shirts and baseball caps and played in cars..." Her eyes narrow, watching him in a jokingly suspicious manner and Ben can only grin.  

_____

          A minute remains in the hour and they’d been there since a minute to in the hour previous, Ben notes upon glancing at his wrist watch. His attention is drawn by a worker wearing a mock face of sorrow (but Ben knows the teen feels no sorrow) when he tells them that he’s got to close up. But like himself after a long shift, the kid probably just wants to close up and ship out for the night. And so, Ben is the first to rise, reluctantly, as he knows once he and Rey step outside, they’re likely to part ways.

         Rey follows, dropping her coffee cup and napkin into the trashcan as she slings her messenger bag over her shoulders. the strap resting in the valley between her breasts and the gentle curve of her waist leading to the bag itself.

          Not too dissimilar from an awkward first date, Ben and Rey stand on the sidewalk just outside of the bakery where they share glances and short smiles, the both of them opening and closing their mouths to speak, but no words ever flee.

          He knows they aren't incompatible in this respect. They'd spent an hour chatting nonstop. And to Ben's surprise, the conversation was riveting from top to bottom. And if the bakery had been open longer, the pair would have stayed and chatted all night if Ben had it his way.

         “I could drive you home.” He finally suggests.

         “You drive me around enough as it is.” She’s joking with him, he knows, and he chortles, but presses the offer.

         “Really, it’s no problem. And it’s dark outside.”

         “It’s when the _creeps_ come out.” She deadpans before grinning. “Joking! What? Afraid I’m going to cheat on your with another bus driver?”

         “Wh-no! I just—I didn’t really even think to realize you probably take buses other than mine all the time.” And he hadn't. In his subconscious, he's aware that there are an armada of bus driver's in the area. He isn't the only one carting her around. But he would't mind to be.

         “I don’t, actually.” Rey replies in admission.“I like riding yours.”

         There are times when Ben's words don't come out the way he intends and he can feel for Rey the moment she utters the sentence. Even so, his cheeks pull taut, growing warm and surely red. He can see the flush spreading across her own cheeks even with the lack of lighting. Rey has to look away, grinding the bottom of her shoe into the pavement.

          He decides he likes the way the words sound even if they weren't meant for his enjoyment. But rather than think lewdly, he takes it as a compliment as it was meant to be. Rey prefers riding the bus he drives and Ben wouldn't have it any other way...unless she wanted to take another bus, of course. _That_ he can't help.

         "C'mon. I’ll take you up on that ride… **drive** …home." Still flustered, Rey speaks again, swiftly correcting her wording for her own sake.

         Nudging into his side with her shoulder, she’s leading him away. Luckily, she’s headed in the right direction to his car. Otherwise, he doesn’t think he has the heart to embarrass her further and tell her his car is in the opposite direction.

          Maz's place comes back into view as well as the shiny black roof of his car and he opens the door for her. He always opens the door for Rey, but now he can open the door for her like a gentleman does his date instead of a bus driver does his passenger. 

          When he rounds to the driver's side, Rey is toying with the beads he has hanging from his rear view mirror. He supposes that she isn't in the backseat to ogle at and the beads are there to remind him of her.

          All in all, she's always at the rear view.

          “I'm surprised you kept them.”

           Full lips purse as he looks to the wobbling plastic balls. "I put them here the night you gave them to me and just never took them off. I don't mind them."

          Digits lift to adjust them around the mirror in another loop to secure them tighter. "I never got to thank you for these."

          “Well, it only took you a month.”

          “Yeah…sorry about that. I’m—I’m not really a social guy.”

          "Could've fooled me, Solo." Ben chuckles, nodding downward at his newly appointed nickname. Though, she isn't the first to call him that.

          “Well, thank you for them. They're...nice.”

           "Don't mention it. I only flashed my tits for them."

          Ben looks almost startled by not only her language, but the fact that she would do something like that for a few plastic beaded necklaces. Down in New Orleans he’d expect nothing less, tits out all over the place in search for drinks and beads to entertain and decorate themselves with. But they are farther up North during the festivities. There isn’t any reason for that. Granted, Ben has treasured them as if they were diamond even though he’s well aware they aren’t. He doesn't want to tell her just how nice he thinks they are.

          “My friend Jess is the one who did the flashing, the one who was on the bus that night.”

          Ben nods. “Ah, yes, I remember. I guess I should thank her for them, then."

          "And thank _you_ for not making me flash my tits.” He rarely cracks jokes, but it’s on the top of his head and tip of his tongue as if his father himself stuck it there. Ben could cringe, but she’s laughing genuinely and he allows the pride he almost swallowed to stick around to grow. 

          Within a short amount of time from departing the sidewalk out front of Maz's Diner, Ben learns that Rey lives in an apartment complex on Niima Drive. It's a sketchier part of town that Ben is only exposed to when he drives the main roads. He'd grown up in a nice part of the county not too far from here but in comparison to his own place now, it's physically shittier yet a savior for his mental state. Yeah, his parents had a nice house, but he'd much rather live alone much like Rey who didn't seem to want (or have) anything to do with her foster father.

          The radio plays gently, just a notch above mute. It's too quiet to catch the tune, but he thinks it's nicer than total silence. His car is parked and Rey hasn't made to get out. That must be a good sign. Ben isn't in any rush, either. He doesn't want her to go even though he knows she's going to at some point and that he'll see her again soon.

          "Thanks-"

          "Thanks-" 

          Both of their mouths make to speak in the exact same moment: Ben's to thank her for treating him to desert (with the money he tipped her) and Rey surely to thank him for offering her a lift home. They crack grins, laughing softly before they fall silent again. It's not nearly as awkward as it could be and for that, Ben is thankful.

          "I just wanted to thank you for giving me a ride home." 

          "Like I said, it's no problem."

          It isn't. Even if he had no choice but to drive her at first. 

          "You always wore black." 

          His brow furrows in response and Rey turns, hopefully to explain. She's thin and barely fills the seat. She's able to lift her leg, arms wrapped around the bent limb and chin resting atop her knee. She looks so young like this and Ben can't help but admire just how sweet her disposition is. He could laugh because not an hour and a half earlier she'd looked just about ready to fight him on the sidewalk. 

         Ben turns slightly in his seat as well (which isn't much considering he certainly does fill his seat). He just wants to face her as best as he can. 

         "All of your clothes were black. Even during the summer you'd show up to the junk yard wearing black pants and black long sleeved shirts. I thought you were stupid and maybe even a bit goth...or emo." 

          "I was not goth nor was I emo!" Ben's voice raised slightly in defense, his face conveying an odd mixture of offence and humor. Rey only laughed.

          "And I wasn't a boy!" Rey retorted. He shook his head, unable to tear his gaze from the woman in the seat beside him. He wants to say "We're still on this?" but keeps his mouth shut for now.

          She did have a right to think that, however. By the definitions of Urban Dictionary, Ben Solo could have definitely been defined as emo as a teen. He can't believe she remembers him. She was only seven or eight at the time---at the peak of his horrible teen years. 

          "No, no you weren't a boy. You were never a boy." Ben's voice is soft as is the gaze he rests upon her moonlit features. She's lovely and he wonders if she knows that. Wonders if a anyone's ever told her that she is like she deserves to be told. 

          "How can you be so sure?"

          "Because you promised me." Ben replies, fighting the urge to reach out and tuck the stray hairs behind her ear. Or to release her locks from their holds all together and run his fingers through them. He wants to tell her he knows for sure she isn't a boy because he's seen her gentle curves, curves that boys (boys that Ben's seen) don't have, that he's seen the gap between her upper thighs when she wears those tight jeans he likes and there just isn't enough room to sheath anything more than her little cunt beneath the taut denim, and lastly, that he certainly isn't attracted to _men_ and would be more than willing to prove it anywhere, anytime. None of it comes out and he's glad for they're too close and he's sure she's able to see traces of red appearing on his cheeks from the thought up words alone.

          "You're just going to take my word for it?" She asks, the corner of her pretty lips curve upward just barely enough for Ben to notice. 

          "Why wouldn't I?"

          "It's still April Fool's Day..." Rey points out with a light shrug as if she's insinuating that she truly is a boy after all. 

          "It is."

          She jests but he did think it a cosmic joke to have ended up here with Rey on April Fool's Day of all days. There has to be a catch, right?

          Rey laughs first just as she typically speaks first and Ben follows soon after. "That's nothing to joke about. You'd think with all of the college courses I'm taking that I could find something more intelligent to make jokes of."

          A leeway for further conversation.

          "I remember you hauling all of those books onto the bus. I thought I saw literature and maybe math and science?"

          "Yes, actually. Well, more of my books are online which is nice. My bag is only so big and my arms can only carry so much."

          Ben's about to open his mouth when she opens hers first. 

          "Speaking of which, I've got homework and class tomorrow morning." She doesn't say she's leaving...

          "I should head inside." Never mind...

          "Yeah, you should." Ben, apprehensively, agrees.  

           With a sigh, she's collecting herself, adjusting her bag around her as she lowers her leg and swivels her body around, opening the door. Ben watches, teetering on whether or not to pull her flush against him and give her a reason to stay a little while longer. _Dammit, have some fucking self restraint_. 

           "Rey," _So much for self restraint_. Ben holds her bicep in a gentle lock, his expression almost beseeching. Her body remains halfway out the door, her head turned and eyes boring into his. "I want to see more of you." She blinks, unsure of what to make of his words. And truthfully, Ben is unsure, too. Had he asked her out or was this just a general request?

          "Don't worry, I'll be around. I've still got my bus pass." With one last flash of her brilliant smile, she's off to study and sleep, leaving Ben alone once more. And despite his desire to keep her for a little while longer, he's still the most satisfied he's felt in Lord only knows how long.

          

         

        

   

 


	4. Sundresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp...here's some sin. Explicit content of the sexual kind below.

          It's May 7th when Ben finds yet another reason he prefers Spring and Summer to Winter (as if he really needs another). Though, this reason, he's recently decided within a span of .5 of a second, has to be his personal favorite.

          The warmer the weather becomes, the warmer Ben gets to properly asking Rey on a date. They speak on a _semi_ -regular basis. Well, whenever Ben opts out of t.v. dinners and decides treat himself. Though, he doesn’t mind because this interaction between waitress and patron is better than bus driver and passenger. Especially in comparison to the months of gazing and smiling in the comfort (and frustration) of silence. Still, they are the latter---bus driver and passenger. And still, they smile and gaze.

         She catches his eye on this May evening. He can’t argue that she always catches his eye, but tonight in particular she’s got him in a metaphorical choke hold of which he simply doesn’t care to relieve himself of.

         Her slender form is clad in a denim jacket, a dress beneath it. It’s floral and fitting of the season (and her body). Ben has always had difficulty with keeping his eyes on the road with Rey tempting his attention from the rear view mirror, but he simply can’t find the will to control himself today.

         Legs, seemingly perpetual, tanned, and toned stride past and he hardly regards her greeting with anything more than a mumbled "hello” which, is almost throwing his progress back two months. They hold eye contact for a moment and Ben swears she looks more radiant than the day before and can’t fathom how this is possible.

_Or how he’s become such a smitten fool._

         He gets a brief view of the back of her, taking in the gentle flow of the pale blue dress with climbing vines and yellow flowers blooming with bright color all blending together in a lovely mesh of hues. Ben’s mouth grows increasingly dry with each passing second. What he wouldn't give to be in Maz's Diner watching Rey place a tall glass of ice cold water on a worn coaster and slip him a straw and strike a conversation.

         It’s only a girl in a sundress, Ben.

         But it’s _Rey_ in a sundress.

         There’s no rush. She’s one of three people on board. Two of which are fast asleep (at least Ben hopes they’re only sleeping) against the windows toward the back of the bus. He takes his time in merging, leisurely driving with his eyes in constant commute between the road and Rey, who’s reading a paperback book. She’s got it folded back in one hand, surely creasing the cover and all pages she holds above.

         Full lips brush over the crooked finger resting against them, pearly teeth grazing the skin upon the curve of her forefinger, chewing lightly as if her finger were substitute for her lack of pencil. She’s so intent in devouring the text for all it’s worth. Ben can tell she’s concentrated on the story as he’s seen her make this face before, eyes narrowed, gentle creases forming around them. It’s almost as if the words themselves are being pulled straight from the page into her head. 

         He knows just how hard she works in school and at Maz's. Ben wonders if she finds genuine interest in the text like he finds genuine interest in her. He's no poet, not does he aspire to be. He's Ben Solo: your neighborhood bus driver and reclusive asshole. And it isn't as though he's unintelligent, but if he could watch her for hours with a dictionary in hand, the words he could find to describe her wouldn't do Rey any justice. It's cliche to think and _oh so cheesy_ , which is why he'll never say any of the sappy things he thinks to her face. 

         The next stop comes and it isn’t Ben’s duty to warn the passengers, but they’re asleep and he wouldn’t mind having the bus to him and Rey alone. Not that anything was going to happen, that anything _could_ happen. Perhaps she’d be more inclined to take a seat closer so they could actually converse with words rather than Ben stare longingly at her reflection. Though, he’s been doing it for months. What’s the point in stopping now?

         He can think of ten reasons on the spot but none of them are really enough to keep him from staring.

         As a responsible adult and driver, Ben looks into his rear view mirror. Not at Rey, but at the older woman and partial view of the man’s striped t shirt in the seat two rows behind her. He makes to inform them of where they are, should they need to get off, lips parting, words maneuvering their way up his throat from his vocal cords. But instead, as the law of the universe would have it, Ben's vision locks on a whole _different_ view and forgets completely why he’s even got his mouth open in the first place.

          It’s so very wrong to stare and he truthfully didn’t mean to let her catch his attention, but he can’t stop, as if he’s paralyzed in mind and body. The heart beneath his flesh and bones beats swiftly as his optics lay on the shimmering peach fabric between Rey’s silken legs. It was innocent on both parts, Rey adjusting the skirt of her dress and Ben looking at the wrong time. She's still reading as if she can't notice the extra breeze that's likely flowing between her thighs, her dress revealing a bit of her he's not opposed to seeing (should Rey have shown it to him on her own accord). He wants to pry his eyes from the sweet mound, but it’s proving to be a highly difficult task.

    
          And then she’s looking directly at him, soft eyes burning a hole in his head, lack of air burning a larger hole in his lungs. 

          _Embarrassment_. As if _he's_ the one who should be feeling it. Ben swallows harshly but it’s blocked by the lump growing in his throat, hindering air and words to come in and go out. He’s shaken, first. Afraid, next. He can’t even think of just what to say or if he should say anything at all. Perhaps a “sorry”? He’s sorry. _So, so sorry_. And hopes she doesn’t think him to be a creep. It’s too late now. He’s been a creep for months. Rey hasn’t seemed to mind, not even now. He’s caught her staring as well, flirting. Then again, he hasn’t accidentally flashed her his panty clad snatch while adjusting his dress. A growl of frustration at his idiocy wants to unleash itself from deep within his chest.

          Rey’s features render indifference. He can’t read her mind, but _oh_ , does he want to. She blinks her doe eyes once, holding no signs of disgust or fear like Ben was sure his do---disgust and fear for intruding on her privacy despite the fact that this is a public setting and it was accidental.

          His vision peels astray from the sight, believing she hasn’t noticed. _Hoping_ she hasn’t noticed. **Praying**. Ben wants to pretend he didn’t see because she didn’t show him and it was not for his viewing pleasure. He’s walked in on his parents fucking more than once and to this day, he pretends it never happened. God, what he wouldn’t give to have his memory erased.

         But this is unlike watching his mother and father fuck, which Ben is continually disgusted by even to this day. No, he likes what little he saw. He wants more. Though, the only "more" he might get is a slap to the face for being such an ass. That much is deserved. 

 

         Tension that fills the air must have awoken the sleeping passengers, as they both rose in the last minute to get off the bus. _For elderly people, their senses are mighty in tune_. He wishes they would sit back and relax for at least five more stops until he reaches Rey's, but they're waddling down the aisle and past the threshold of the bus.   
  
          Now, he’s alone with Rey. _Just what he’s always wanted._

          Not five minutes ago was he ready to pry all remaining passengers who were not Rey from their hard plastic seats and toss them into the lovely Spring evening. Six minutes down the line, he's prepared to begin counting the stops until she disembarks. Not to mention, he's thinking of just what to say if she confronts him. If there is a God, and they love Ben the way his mother told him God does, she won't be doing any confronting. _Shit_ , she won't have even noticed that HE noticed her involuntary flashing. Does God take requests?

         Driving by the grace of muscle memory, Ben pulls from the curbs to merge into the streets. There isn't any traffic to merge into. On a night like this, and nights to come until Winter rolls back through, his bus isn't crowded because everyone wants to be outside. Ben can't blame them. He too could use some fresh air just about now. 

          He's lost to his thoughts and to the sight of the license plate of the care in front of him. But not for very much longer. 

          **Sky and Walker.** His bus stops, but his pulse continues to race.

         “Were you staring at my snatch?”

         Her question is like a slap to sunburn and Ben is stunned by her brazen and brash query. Apparently God isn't currently taking requests. But perhaps, if Ben is lucky, he'll allow for the ground to swallow him whole. With the way his cheeks burn, he thinks he could handle Hell.

         “ _What_?”

         They’re both aware he knows exactly what she asked yet, Ben can't help but pretend otherwise. 

         “My _pussy_.” She begins, rephrasing herself. Ben’s breath hitches. “Did you get a good view, pervert?”

         “N-no! I was just using the rear-view mirror to see if anyone was getting off at the stop. I didn’t see anything!” 

         He expects her to retort, to corner him more than she already has, to ask him why he's so defensive. She doesn't. To his disbelief (his relief, really), she harbors no anger in her green orbs and her fists aren’t balled at her sides, preparing to punch him. Though, he wouldn’t put it past her. She’s rather feisty which he can’t say he hates.

         Rey simpers.

         No punch, no shout, no anything other than this smirk. It’s such an odd contortion of her lips, not sweet nor kind. He’s afraid for many reasons but her smirk is not one of them. In fact, _he likes it._

         “The only one getting off at that stop seems to have been you.”

         Ben doesn't know whether to commend her on the quip or bang his head repeatedly into the steering wheel. Perhaps that'd knock some sense into him. He does neither, for the time being, and instead is left, mouth gaping as Rey leaves the bus, head held high.   
  
         The reaction, the one he didn't know if he should expect or not, surprises him.

_____

         It surprises Ben more when she wears another dress a day later.

         No flowers cover the dress, no vines or other shrubbery climbing her form. It's solid in hue, yet seemingly thin as if the fabric were something slightly more substantial than cobwebs spun by spiders and perhaps if looked at close enough, _transparent_. But he won't look. He won't strain. Won't make it more obvious. Though, he can't help but notice how the pale pink looks against her skin tone...and how it's a similar color to the panties she wore the day before.

 _That’s beside the point._  Though, he doesn't really have one anyway.  
  
          A green wallet hangs from a loop around her wrist, bus pass at the ready in her free hand as she boards. He doesn't know why she bothers with it anymore. He trusts her and even if he didn't, he wouldn't hesitate to invite her inside.  
  
          Freckle dusted shoulders are home to loose straps that seem to abandon their places, constantly slipping from her skin to caress her arms, leaving her bare from the collarbones up. Full lips, plump and pink, are shinier than usual. He would know. They're quirked upward at the slightly hollowed corners, glistening and just barely showing a glimpse of her teeth.   
  
          Chestnut tresses fall in soft waves over her shoulders, framing her face with both thick and thin wisps as if painted that way in high resolution. He's only caught that frame, freezing it in his head for a moment---hair billowing lightly in the makeshift wind of the air conditioner just over her face, sticking to her lips, cheeks, and lashes as she watches him with a gentle gaze.  
  
          No words form in his head to release through his mouth. Not after their short encounter the night previous. It might be best not to speak here, not to speak now, not while he's ordering dinner, not when she's asking him if he'd like desert or not. Then again, Ben's timing has always been shit.    
  
          Rey too says nothing when he's thinking she will do the exact opposite and alternatively opts to take her seat. For the sake of himself in his entirety, he forces his vision elsewhere. It's the first time she's stepped on board that his eyes haven't followed her like lost puppies and for this newfound (and likely temporary) curtailment , he's grateful. _Finally_ , Ben manages to show some restraint even though it's difficult.

          He's never known addiction, not from alcohol, not from drugs, not porn, not online shopping, or eating pieces of his mattress like those people on television. But Rey, pretty little Rey with her freckles, mile long legs and dazzling smile, he's addicted to her reflection in his mirror, to watching her board, un-board, serve plates of food and squint her green orbs in concentration as she reads argumentative essays on how the schooling system of America is fucked (she ranted to him once before for a few moments. Never had Ben found the fucked schooling system more riveting). Ben can't deny how physically attractive she is and how physically attracted he is to her, but there is always more. 

          They've shared an estimated total of thirteen conversations within a span of five months, all great conversations, all interesting, some longer than others. But he doesn't know her and she doesn't know him. It's the simple truth. They're acquainted, friendly but not exactly friends. This is limbo. Ben doesn't know HOW to have friends or how to have relationships period. He knows how to fuck. That's one thing he's decent at. 

          To fuck Rey isn't all he wants. Hell, if Ben Solo knows what he wants...He's driving a God damn bus and where his route is the same and his uniform is already picked out for him. 

          Perhaps he's so drawn BECAUSE he hardly knows her, because of the mystery, the excitement of what's to come, what they haven't experienced. But shit, it's been months and Ben still can't find a rational way to explain how absolutely besotted he is with the young beauty.

          Maybe it's just _inexplicable_. 

_____  
         

          9:47 rolls around, nearly fifteen minutes since Rey stepped onto the bus after ending her shift at the diner. The time hadn't struck him as strange (Rey explained to him that Maz is flexible with her schedule, let's her work what she can when she can). Like the night before, it's quiet save for the soft snoring of a man sat at the very back of the bus, black hood pulled over his head, face hidden in the crook of his arm. Truth be told, the only reason Ben had noticed the guy was because of Rey who, when he shortly looked to the mirror, was turned and eyeing him.

          Ben blinks, lips slightly pursed. He wonders what she's watching the man for. Surely the light snoring isn't bothering her. Then again, Ben has the temper of a famished lion and he'd probably huff and puff his whole way home if he had to listen to it. Luckily for Ben, the air vents are pushing chilled air through, masking the noise. 

          Rey turns back, facing front not a moment after, her gaze hesitantly drifting to Ben's concentrated face in the mirror. The desire to look back is maddening mostly because he can't tell if she is or isn't staring at him. It wouldn't be the first time she did. Now, though, he doesn't know if he can handle her staring. Especially since their most recent interaction, while (thankfully) short, wasn't entirely pleasant. Well, on Ben's half. He was flustered, as red as a boiled lobster.

_That fucking smirk she gave me..._

Pure interest, _and lack of  prudence_ , get the best of him and he lifts his attention to Rey only to find that his gut instinct was right---Rey is staring. His father always told him to follow his gut. Even though it's now swirling with nerves. He refuses to refer to them as _butterflies_. But damn if it doesn't feel like those little shits are fluttering around inside of his stomach right now...

          Her dim visage is calm, eyes sensual, lips parted, almost as if she's going to speak to him. Rey doesn't begin conversation with her voice, but allows her hues to reel him in with ease like she were conversing verbally. And Ben listens with his own eyes. She doesn't need to speak to gain his attention. He's had it for months with occasional words shared here and there.

          Red gleams from the traffic light above, giving him at least twenty seconds of freedom to do with what he will. It's all he needs, all Rey needs.

          A lone petite hand lifts upward to rest upon her protruding collarbone, toying with stray strands of hair. The ill-lit lighting can't hide how soft her locks look, how soft her skin looks as it caresses down her lissome breasts. But the light certainly can't hide how her erect nipples strain against the fabric, making her absence of a bra, not even strapless, very much known (and appreciated).

          His breath hitches then, and continues to stall even as the light turns green. Like the bus that Ben drives onward, her hand travels over her waist, down her hips where her free hand joins in to take hold of the hem of her dress, scrunching and bunching it between her fingers. The man, bless him, is struggling at the wheel, hoping she's enjoying teasing him. Oh, but how far can she go until it really isn't considered teasing anymore and just downright _cruel_?

          When she lifts the hem over her smooth thighs only to pull it back over once more? When the hint of a grin plays on her mouth? When she lifts the skirt for a third time, making it her final? When her tongue darts out to wet her lips and she chews down on the flesh, her almond eyes boring into his? Or maybe when she parts her legs and reveals to Ben her pretty pink pussy, bare and plump...

          _That's when._  

          His heart stops, then starts, beating in pace tenfold. His cock twitches at the sight of her slit, a lovely shade of pink far nicer than that of the panties she wore. He wants to reach down, to palm himself through his trousers but forbids the idea. This is his _workplace_ and Rey is his passenger now. Ben's narrow jaw clenches. She isn't his _only_ passenger now, the man still in their presence, slumped and sleeping against the back window. His snoring is completely drowned out by the blood coursing in Ben's veins and the erratic thump beneath his chest both sounding off in his ears. 

          Ben is surely not in the state to be driving, yet he manages to maintain a relatively calm facade even when her fingers dip over her lips, parting them like she had parted her legs to show off her shining center. Rey toys with Ben by means of toying with herself and he wants to release and audible whine, to stomp his feet like a child who isn't getting his way.

          It isn't fair.

          It isn't fair that her fingers are rubbing leisurely at her cunt, that she's relaxing into her own touch, legs parting further, her torso drooping into the uncomfortable plastic chair, yet she manages to _make_  it comfortable. He can see it in the way her head rolls, hair water-falling over the dull grey of her seat. Rey's fingers quicken, her pointer stroking her swelling clit while her middle thrusts inside. Ben's never wanted to be a _finger_ nor has he wanted to be a bus driver yet here he is...

          And there she is, kneading her newly released breast, dusty rose nipple just barely visible over the neckline of her dress. He can hear the faint sound of pants and soft whimpers just over the air conditioning, both of which he wants to steal right from her lips and swallow them whole. Ben is torn between wanting the man to remain asleep, and wishing he'd wake up because the view of Rey fucking herself with her fingers, choppy due to having to keep the bus and all on board in once piece, is a sight like no other. Though, the idea excites and unnerves him, it definitely causes jealousy to arise.

          Crooked teeth chew at his lower lip, the taste of copper faint on his tongue. Ben wants nothing more than to park the bus and finish Rey off with his mouth, to tongue at her dripping cunt, to know what she tastes like. Ben's wondered endlessly what that flavor might be from her lips, skin, to her lips below and how she'd feel cumming around his cock as she rides him or while he fucks into her. And Hell, the old man in the back can watch if he likes. Lord knows he probably isn't getting any action of his own.  
  
          It's unreal how hard he is as he's sat at the driver's seat of his bus, making his rounds. Then, a thought strikes him; what will Rey do when her stops comes up? There isn't much time from now until then and he supposes he'll find out soon enough. It's of little to no importance, however, while she's still here.

          In all of his days on the job, and all of his days as a driving citizens, he's never been more welcoming of road work and traffic lights. He believes Rey is quite enjoying them as well because it means he can keep his lust glazed optics on her, breathing heavily as she pleasures herself. He cannot utter a word, but wants her to be thinking of him. Of how he could touch her, how he could lick her pussy, or fuck her until she's screaming his name and climaxing so hard she can't remember hers.

          No matter. She does have a bus pass after all...

          Parted lips are shaped into an _O_ , her chest heaving, fingers working vigorously against her clit. Sweat beads at his forehead, heart continually hammering at new speeds and his body is reacting to the mere visuals as if he's inside of her himself, pounding her into the seats, her dress slid up tp her waist, tits unsheathed, bouncing and being cupped, his hands gripping her hips, nails digging into her skin, and his lips nipping, sucking, licking, kissing, and hissing dirty words into her ear.

          Many a scenario have been imagined by Ben---rutting with her inside of his bus is certainly one of them. However, he couldn't care less where they are so much as he does what they're doing. What he's doing to her. What she's doing to him... _fuck_. What _is_ she doing to him?

          Rey must be having similar, if not exact, thoughts as Ben because he believes she's cumming on her hands, lurching forward, legs quivering. She's a vision even in the crap lighting, flushed from her forehead to her chest, lip swollen from the biting and core dripping and red. Rey makes no noise when she cums and he isn't sure if it's because she's in public and doesn't want to draw anyone's attention other than his or because her orgasm was so Earth shattering that no noise is capable of conveying. Either way, he's surprised he doesn't cum in his own pants. It would be pretty pathetic on his part and rather incredible on Rey's. 

          She's got wonderful timing, though. Ben is still distraught, just paying enough attention to know that her stop is ahead. It's a nice break for him to be able to pull off to the side and take a breather. But possible interactions leave him on edge, wanting to know just what Rey will do next if anything at all. He watches her like a hawk eyeing its prey. She's gathering herself, fixing the skirt of her dress and while she's covered, Ben can still imagine the sight of her wet core, wanting to get a whiff of her arousal as she passes. He's denied this pleasure.

          But granted another.

          A dainty hand is lifted to her lips, her pointer finger sliding between them as she tastes herself. Ben's breath hitches audibly but not over the obscene popping noise she makes when her cum is sucked off. Rey stares directly into Ben's eyes and he knows this is meant to destroy him.

          She succeeds.

           _____

 

          There is not a day on the job has Ben ever rushed home as swiftly as he does tonight. The bus is driven with far more care than Ben drives his car now (even when his eyes are glued on Rey and he's only watching the road about forty percent of the time), whipping into his driveway, tires screeching at the sudden turn. But Ben is unhinged, stiffly hurrying through his front door.

          Somewhere deep within his lust addled brain, Ben knows he should strip down and take a cold shower, resist the temptation to touch himself to the thought of Rey, the _memory_. Instead, however, he thinks with his _other_ brain in this instant and bee-lines it for his bedroom where he strips of his work clothes. He’s lucky he got himself out of the car as he had been groping himself through the thick fabric of his trousers the entire way home. 

          He nearly trips over his pants that are pooled at his feet as he moves to his bed, hand already shoved into the waistband of his boxers before he hits the mattress with little bounce, springs creaking, fingers wrapping around his achingly hard cock. He whimpers, the sound rumbling deep inside of his chest and bouncing between the four walls of his room, not having been this hard in what felt like years. It’s a noise of desperation, of pain, of guilt, of lust. Not one emotion is able to outweigh the other.

          And though the guilt is present, Ben reminds himself that Rey had _masturbated_ right in front of him...well, _behind_ him. BUT still touched herself knowingly while he ogled. 

          He’s got all the time in the world to slow things down, to take time to touch his body, to build up to his climax (to stop this all together). Ben does nothing of what he thinks to do, opting to stroke himself at a quick pace. He chooses not to think at all which never really works well except for times like these when his most primal and basic needs are here to play.

          There’s been months worth of a build up to this point and truth be told, he’s surprised he’s lasted this long. Though, right now, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer, pre-cum coating the head of his dick and dripping down the shaft, balls heavy.

          His thoughts drift to Rey, how she watched him, how she baited him, how she teased him. He'd show her. He'd punish her for the incessant teasing and mixed signals. Oh, but he practically begs for it. Ben's constantly torn between wanting to lay her down and make love to her or fuck her senseless. A rush of adrenaline hits him like a train and he thinks the latter sounds wonderful right about now.

          Fingers tighten around his erection, simulating the part of Rey's tiny cunt sliding up and down, riding him as he drops his head back against the wall. He can only imagine now what her own walls feel like, how much he could fill her up, how tight she'd be. Ben thinks of her hands gripping his shoulders or weaving into his hair, tugging at his scalp.The sounds she made on the bus were almost silent but he hears just enough to believe she's moaning right into his ear softly so that the neighbors don't hear.   
  
          Ben doesn't let up, only jerking himself faster. He wants Rey to scream for him, to moan and whimper. He wants the neighbors to hear her even next door. And God, if he doesn't think that watching her greet them the next day when she's leaving for school or work is one of the hottest things...

          Hips buck upward into his generous hand, cock damn near ready to explode, the last thought of Rey dressing in the morning and wiggling her fingers "hello" while sporting her beautiful smile. And he does with three more strokes, balls finally constricting. Ben spills against his abdomen and digits, milking himself for all he's worth and all he's pent up all while tasting Rey's name in soft pants on his tongue.   
  
         Of course the thought to send him over the edge is a domestic one.

        Who knew a sundress could elicit such a reaction? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I'm????? not entierly confident with this chapter. I've written NSFW content before but not to be published in a story so this is a little strange. But feedback, and advice, is always welcome! I hope y'all enjoyed <3


	5. Summer Lovin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh….sorry for the long ass wait for the final chapter but i hope y'all like it! I literally have no other excuse than i’m lazy, lost muse, and was working a lot. but here it is! enjoy! feedback is everything to me (:
> 
> ALSO, you guyscan find me at http://spacesmol.tumblr.com . it’s my rp blog but feel free to stop in and chat with me and maybe even request some reylo/benrey fics!
> 
> and finally, thank you to everyone who’s read this story, gave kudos, feedback, love, and support. you guys are awesome and are the reason i kept uploading <3

          It’s some day of the week at some time after noon in June (despite being a semi-functioning adult with responsibilities, the concept of time during the summer still manages to escape him) when Ben finally finds the time, and patience, to install his air conditioner. It’s old, clunky, and rusted but it does the job, cooling off the few rooms and halls in his place. It’s a hell of a lot better than a dinky fan that only seems to blow dust up his nose and keep copious amounts of sweat from forming on his body. Ben complains when it’s cold, complains when it’s hot…(though, he strongly prefers the latter.)

 

         He’s requested more night shifts. No, not because it’s when Rey typically rides, but because the damned buses are old and don’t have air systems. It’s cooler during the evenings………and he likes having Rey on board even if she does cause him mental distress and physical embarrassment (he admits begrudgingly to himself and himself only.)

 

         This town is run down, funding for the restoration of roads, parks, buildings, and even public transportation is at an all time low. But even with his decently average pay, he can still manage a comfortably average life around here.

 

        _____

 

         Ben’s shifts and repetition are like dogs and wolves; the same. The sun falls, the stops come, the people go. Yet tonight, Rey stays. As per usual, he sneaks glances back at her. Though, his curiosity is piqued for a new reason now that goes far beyond physical. Why hasn’t she gotten off? He passed her stop nearly a half hour prior and his shift is coming to an end. Not that he necessarily minds. Especially if his night ends in another one of her little peep shows. Ben swallows, shaking the wishful thinking from his head.

 

          Rather, he could list reasons as to why she’s still sat with her legs occupying the seat beside her and her head resting atop balled up knuckles past the time she typically disembarks but instead, for once, Ben stops thinking and takes the road less traveled by. And for a good reason.  
  
       

         A flat palm presses into the leather of the wheel, guiding the bus right on to Clarke Drive—also known as the street with more potholes than Ben can count. And as far as Ben can see thanks to the dimming lights of the bus, no preparations for the holes to be filled have begun. Not that he expects this township to put for the effort…or the money for that matter.

 

         It’s only his luck (or lack thereof) when his plan to stray from the plan backfires and unleashes it’s wrath on the bus.

 

         stutter….clank…stutter…clank… **CLANK**!  
  
       

         What the fuck? The bus rumbles as it sags to the left, skidding alongside the street. he knows it’ll leave a nasty mark. but he also knows that it’ll never get detailed.  
  
       

         The tire’s blown, Ben realizes as he manages to pull into the desolate parking lot of the Big K that seems like it was closing down for years before it just recently shut down for good.

 

         He and Rey share a knowing glance at one another, a silent conversation occurring between them before he releases a sigh and makes to resolve the issue, the brunette following behind as she unfolds her slender legs from the seat.

 

         The fate that awaits them is already known to Ben as he exits the bus into the parking lot, rounding the front of the vehicle to find everything is just as he expects and nothing at all the way he wishes it were. Hands clasp together behind his head, glaring at the deflated tire as if it’s glaring at Ben.

 

         “I’m going to have to call Triple A.” Ben announces, hand already reaching for his phone sheathed away in his pants pocket.

 

         Rey nods, head ticking back and forth to each high pitched press of his phone’s buttons as she toes at a pebble. Ben’s watching her as he waits for someone to greet him. And he almost misses the female voice as he’s distracted by Rey’s constant movements before him.

 

         “Hi, yes I—” _Automated_. Of course. Ben cranks his jaw before shutting the phone after a few more seconds of listening.

 

         Rey quirks a brow. “There was an accident on the turnpike. Big one. All of their available tow trucks are headed that way. There’s an estimated two to three hours before anyone can get out here.”

 

         “Godspeed.” Rey replies to Ben or to no one in particular, her body leaning against the bus, eyes staring at her tattered converse. Ben gives a shrug of his brows in response.

 

          “You know, I could fix this.”

 

         It’s his turn to quirk a brow. And within a millisecond, petite hands come to rest on the worn leather belt holding up her (deliciously short) denim shorts over her hips.

 

         “What’s that look?” She nearly hisses.

 

         The man can only blink in response, torn away from those daisy dukes. He sighs, already aware that she thinks that HE thinks she isn’t capable.

 

         Something of both a groan and a chuckle escape from deep within the back of Ben’s throat as he runs his hands over his face before they find a temporary home on his own hips.

 

         “What-what are you laughing at?” She demands, a bit more heated this time. “What could possibly be funny about me trying to help you? Think I can’t do it?”

 

         It’s a challenge, he’s sure. One that he isn’t going to take her up on.

 

         “Rey, it isn’t that, okay. Jesus Christ, kid. calm down.”

 

         The tense hold on her body falls and she’s sulking, moving to kick the tire. Serves the God damned thing right.

 

         “Have you got a spare?”

 

         “No.” The last driver of the bus stole the tire before disappearing. At least he wasn’t stupid enough to take the entire bus…

 

         “Do you know someone who’s got a spare that won’t take an estimated two to three hours to arrive here?”

 

           Han.

 

          The name comes to mind before she even finishes her question and leaves upon the last word she utters. No way in hell he’s calling his dad to come rescue him. He hasn’t spoken to him in weeks.

 

         “No. No one near by, anyway. The tow company’ll get here before anyone I know could.”

 

          Which makes sense to Ben considering he doesn’t know too many other people.

 

         But Rey can only sigh, slumping herself against the bus once again. And Ben can only watch her every move despite that she’s partially sheathed by darkness. And for once, he wishes that fucking K-Mart wasn’t out of business so their normally half lit, flickering sign could illuminate at least a part of her.

 

         “Bet you wish you’d gotten off at your stop.”

 

         Rey glances up, a smile tugging at her lips. “No, actually.”

 

         He’s intrigued by her answer, mindlessly stepping forward in her direction as if each step will lead him closer to answers he doesn’t know he’s necessarily looking for.

 

         A chuckle and then she feels the need to explain herself. “I’ve nothing better to do. Jessika and Finn, my friends, they’re away. Jessika is in Aruba and Finn is helping his parents move. Besides, I like drives.” She shrugs. “And I wanted to…I just wanted to hang out with you.”

 

         Rey wants to cringe and Ben swears he detects a hint of it but he’s flattered, flustered if anything. Full lips twitch into a smile and he’s got verbal confirmation of something he’s been wondering about for months. And now he’s wondering just how long she’s wanted to hang out with him again.

 

         “Hang out?” Ben snorts. “You consider riding on the bus while I’m driving “hanging out”?” Rey huffs a laugh, shaking her head as she leans forward to nudge him with her shoulder.

 

         “Not while you’re driving—oh, you know what I meant!“ She chuckles. "I would’ve thought you’d have asked me to hang out. Especially after the last time we talked.”

 

         Ben recalls the memory of her fingers dancing over her pretty cunt vividly…and sometimes once or twice a day when he’s got the extra time.

 

         “I wouldn’t exactly call that _talking_.”

 

_More like sign language if anything…_

 

         “I was under the impression that you were disgusted by me after that night.” Ben admits. Shit, he was disgusted with himself for a little while there. Invasion of privacy and all…

 

         “And I was under the impression that you wanted to fuck me.” Rey quips. And Ben, despite how red and hot his cheeks grow, feels brazen—like something could happen.

 

         "Which is why I thought you were disgusted.“ He replies. 

 

         Rey bursts into a fit of giggles, her hair dusting over her tank clad chest as she shakes her head. "I had my hand shoved between my legs on the public transportation and _I’m_ disgusted with _you_?” She asks in disbelief.

 

         Her laugh is infectious. Like the cold he got over the holidays from his uncle Lando who sneezed on him under the mistletoe before planting a kiss right on his lips. Ben finds himself laughing at the thought as well as along with Rey for the ridiculousness of both ideas.

 

         "You’re right, you little pervert.“

 

         Her expression feigns shock, but Ben truly feels it immediately after he lets the words slip from his mouth. She swats at his chest.

 

         "You were the one watching. Which reminds me…you never gave me an answer.”

 

          “What was the question?” 

 

          Deep down, Ben knows. And Rey knows he knows. He can see it in her eyes, the way that she stares at him. 

 

         Hues of chocolate bore down into the doe eyes of Rey, something akin to hunger within them. It’s as if he’s suddenly grown famished and desires to sate the growling inside. And she’s gazing up at him with an intensity rivaling his own, as if she’s bating him, as if she wants something to happen as well.

 

          “Want.”

 

          “What?”

 

          “I _want_ to fuck you.”

 

         There’s a shift in her as she sinks further back against the bus, staring up into Ben’s eyes through thick lashes. Ben corners her until she’s pressed so far into the bus, her ass could be inside, pressed into the corner of a seat. A hand comes to brace itself beside her head. Only one, leaving a space for her should she decide she doesn’t want this.

 

         “I was right, then.”

 

         “You are right.” He confirms. “I-I can’t get you out of my head, Rey. I can’t even get you out of my bus, my rear-view.” He releases a breathy chuckle, a stray strand of dark hair falling and brushing his nose.

 

         Rey swallows and Ben follows the movement down the length of her throat. “I’m out of your bus now.”

 

         “God kid, you’re something else.” He nearly growls, shaking his head. The lowly whispered words cause Rey to straighten, her chest to grow tense as if she’s holding her breath.

 

         Ben knows the feeling all too well. He felt it the moment he laid eyes on her and various moments leading up to that night where she played with herself and even now as he’s got her backed into the bus. He’s been flustered himself for far too long by the little minx and now that he’s got a taste of what she’s like as the prey, he isn’t sure he’s ready to go back.

 

         "What are you going to do with me now that you’ve got me here?”

 

         Optics flicker and somehow manage to grow darker and his body to her own manages to grow closer.

 

          “I should tease you. Show you what you’ve been putting me through.” He murmurs, utterly distraught by how soft the skin of her cheek feels against thick calloused fingers. Rey leans into his touch like a kitten in need of affection and Ben can only watch her in admiration.

 

         “What I’ve been putting you through, huh? Do explain.”

 

          “You’d only look at me. You wouldn’t say a thing. Just batted your eyelashes. And your smile…”

 

          “Oh, how torturous.” Those pretty orbs roll and that prettier mouth grins.

 

         The pad of his thumb drags her lower lip and he marvels in the way it bounces back into place like an elastic band before he presses inward, the wet warmth of her mouth enveloping his thumb, paralleling another sensation he knows well and it goes straight to his awakening cock.

 

         Rey sucks his thumb into her mouth like she’s inviting it to stay for dinner, green hues darkening as they gaze upward. But as much as he believes her to enjoy it, Rey doesn’t complain when he removes his thumb, swiping her lips to rid it of the moisture.

 

          “I kept hearing your voice…”

 

          “Ben, you aren’t in a Nicholas Sparks novel. You don’t have to sugar coat everything.” Rey tells him, voice soft.

 

         Ben’s face contorts into slight confusion. Firstly, none of what he says is sugar coated. Now, he knows he isn’t a poet and God, he won’t ever try. But he supposes this is just his way of describing the inexplicably strong attraction he feels toward Rey. And secondly…

 

         “Who the hell is Nicholas Sparks?”

 

         Rey scoffs and turns her head to the side briefly and when she returns, Ben’s sporting that lopsided grin she thinks is stupidly sexy.

 

         “Alright, fine.” Ben obliges with a nod before shoving Rey harshly into the bus, a knee parting her thighs as he invades her space. There’s a squeak and Ben is ninety nine percent sure it’s Rey and not the bus.

 

         If it isn’t the romance she wants, (which Ben is shit at anyway) then the crude thoughts that plague his mind are what she’ll get instead.

 

         “Is this what you want, Rey? Do you want me to hold you here and tell you how badly I want to fuck you?” Ben growls, lips brushing the shell of her ear as his hands reach to restrain her hands with one of his. 

 

         He can feel the way her chest begins to heave, the way her lips part to allow for more air to slip between. And while he’s only a tad more composed than she, he can’t deny he needs more air as well.

 

         “It makes my cock twitch every time I think about you spreading your pussy. But that was your goal, wasn’t it? You wanted me to see you playing with yourself.”

 

         “Yes,” She gasps, bucking against his knee.

 

         “Impatient…” He notes, grinning as his nose grazes her cheek, lips following in suit. “We still have an estimated two to three hours to kill….you know…if you’re alright with this.“ Ben breaks for a moment, searching her face for any discomfort.

 

         "Really? You’d know if I didn’t want this, Ben.”

 

         "I never assume, kid.“

 

         "I was hoping you would with all of the hints I’ve been tossing at you for months now.”

 

         Ben manages to pull away even farther, obviously thrown by the expression plastered on his face and the short huff shot from between parted lips. “ _Months_?”

 

         "You’ve wanted this for _months_?“ He repeats, tone low as he sandwiches her body tighter between himself and the bus.

 

         "Oh, please. You’ve wanted it too and never said a damned thing!”

 

          _Touche_. She’s got a point. Then again, Ben isn’t too great with admitting his feelings. Even if they’re only to himself.

 

         Rather than argue over Rey’s hint dropping Ben’s inability to pick any of them up, his lips latch onto the soft skin of her neck. Which tastes far better than words of a dispute. He lets up on the hold of her hands, his own traveling to her jaw, turning her head to the side as to give himself more room to explore. Tresses of auburn tickle his cheeks, nose and lips but he makes no move to push them away while he sucks his mark into tanned skin, nipping and licking away the sharp pain of jagged teeth.

 

         Rey whimpers beneath him, taking it upon herself to keep her head turned away to allot Ben access to the sensitive skin upon her neck. Free hands find purchase in the dark locks of hair that sit flawlessly atop his head, locks of hair she’s wanted to run her fingers through. It’s unreal to her just how silken they are, even more so than her own which is disheartening and incredible all at once. But Ben thinks not of his hair, but how lovely her fingers feel brushing over his scalp. He practically purrs as his mouth travels between the prominent bone of her clavicle to her jaw.

 

          His lips know the satiny warmth of the skin from the collar up, but his calloused hands crave to discover what resides beneath her clothes. Ben takes the liberty of sliding a hand beneath her yellow tank top, the pads of his fingertips caressing and pressing into her tight abdomen and rising to grasp just below her breast which…

 

         "No bra?“

 

         A panting Rey cocks her head to the side. "Do you feel a bra?”

 

         "Right, stupid question.“ But seeing is believing for Ben. And so, he swiftly rids her upper body of the tank, balling it between his fingers and stuffing into his pants pocket.

 

         She makes no move to swat him away or to reprimand him for leaving her topless in public. Then again, she’s guilty of public masturbation. But utter fascination overcomes him when eyes are met with pert tits, left nipple dusty rose and hardening as he swipes his thumb across the sensitive nub. And as Ben is gazing at her chest, she’s gazing at him with such wonder in her hues. Little does Ben know that her tiny breasts are an insecurity. However, the way he’s looking at them, the way he’s touching them, would suggest that he feels quite the opposite of herself.

 

         "They’re pretty small.” Why she feels the need to belittle them, un-ironically, is beyond him. 

 

         "Your tits are fucking perfect, Rey.“ Ben nearly moans as his head swoops down and tongue darts from between his lips to drag across her nipple, his fingers gripping the soft flesh beneath. He sucks and nips and Rey sighs and groans from above as her hand holds his hair back so she can marvel in the sight.

 

         And for once, Ben’s said and done something right. 

 

          Digits travel across her jean clad ass, gripping as he continues downward to the backs of her tanned thighs. She gasps when he lifts her from the grown with ease, guiding her legs to wrap around his waist. Despite the darkness, he doesn’t want to share her with the vacant parking lot or torn up road. Ben walks Rey into the bus where they can have at least _some_ privacy. 

 

          He holds her high, clavicle eye level and breasts mouth level as he suckles freckle dusted skin. Ben is cautious of the stairs but makes quick work of ascending them, unlatching his mouth from her to set Rey into the driver’s seat, _Ben’s seat_ , and closing the door behind them.

 

          From there, Ben turns to find a shirtless Rey, wide eyed and so very young staring up at him, her eyes twinkling beneath the moonlight. His character threatens to falter then and there, entranced by her. But his half hard cock keeps him in check and he’s closing the space between them one more. 

          “Where do you want me?” She asks, making to stand up. Ben switches places with her, sitting himself upon the seat and pulling Rey atop his lap, a thigh on either side of his. Their space is cramped, but the proximity is all Ben’s craves.

 

          “Right here, sweetheart.” Ben utters softly, tucking rogue waves behind her ears, leaning forward to press feathery kisses to her collarbone. A soft sigh emits from her parted lips and her fingers find his hair again and Ben rubs circles into the dimples of her bare back.

 

           Adjusting herself in his lap, Rey has no other choice but to buck and squirm, leaving Ben to grunt and groan as his dick comes to life beneath his trousers. He has to stop himself from rutting up against her cunt. It isn’t time. Not yet. But Christ, now he’s wondering if she’s wet enough to handle him. His fingers take the leap of faith, working to deftly unbutton and unzip her shorts, the tips of his fingers teasing the hem of her cotton panties.

 

          “Lift yourself a little bit there, Rey.” Ben mumbles, helping her rise for a moment. Rey obliges and Ben takes the opportunity to slip his hand further into her shorts, the fabric soft and warm. Rey trembles at his touch and Ben stares up at her in utter fascination, watching the way her face contorts as his thumb rubs gentle circles into her clit from outside of her panties. 

 

          It’s not long after that Rey begins to move against him. Ben takes the rock of her hips and the contraction of her stomach muscles as signs to proceed. Ben toys with the girl, grasping onto the fabric and bunching what little there is of it together, tugging ever so lightly as it becomes trapped beneath her lips, plump and pink. Ben marvels at the sight.

 

          Rey lowers herself fully into his lap, gripping Ben’s shoulders all while she watches the way he teases her with her own panties. She’s fully aware of his erect member as it presses into her now that she’s sat in a straddle over his legs. Rey grinds and Ben inhales deeply, sinking farther into his chair to enjoy the show. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out before he needs to buck up into her. 

 

          But he does know that he finds her wet when he finally pushes her panties to the side and glides a finger seamlessly up her slit. Rey mewls, chewing into the flesh of her lips while Ben teases her core. 

 

         “Please, Ben,” Rey breathes, urging him to pick up his pace. It’s been stuck at tantalizingly slow for too long. Rey wants more. She needs more. Ben gives her the friction she covets, working harder and faster into her sensitive bead while he ravages her neck, sucking his frustration into her skin.

 

          “Are you going to come for me, Rey? Were you already wet for me before you even got onto the bus?” He asks, voice strained as Rey continues to wriggle in his lap, his cock heavily petted by her wanton pussy through the thick and rough denim. The brunette whines in response and Ben can tell that she’s close by the way her eyes scrunch shut, her chest heaves, her fingers dig into his shoulders and her hips move, desperately chasing her finish. 

 

          "Ah-yes! Hmm, right there, Ben!" 

 

          Whimpers tumble from her lips and Ben uses his free hand to steady her as her orgasm washes over, leaving her a shaking mess as she tips. Ben’s lips are parted and he gazes up at her in complete awe. She looks the way she did in his rear view mirror. Except this time, she’s in high definition. Not a mere reflection he gets to ogle from his driver’s seat but instead, gets to make come in his lap from his driver’s seat. 

 

 

          When she’s finally settled down, she offers Ben a shy smile. One he hasn’t seen since their earlier interactions. And for a moment, Ben forgets how maddeningly hard he is and smiles back, adoration in his gaze. 

 

          “That was better than I thought it would be.” Rey tells him.

 

          “M’glad I exceed your expectations.” 

 

          Seconds pass before Rey is moving around once again. Ben huffs, going stiff, well more _stiff_ than he is already. “Help me out of these?” Rey asks, lifting herself onto her knees. Ben grips her jeans in his hands and slides them over the soft globes of her ass and down her thighs. 

 

          And while the sight of her almost fully naked and in his lap is one of the sexiest things he’s ever seen, he can’t help but chuckle when she contorts her body and shakes her shorts halfway to her knees. His fingers grip her hips to keep her from falling but ultimately, the steering wheel catches her.

 

          Mostly the horn. 

 

          They’re both quick to pry her from the roaring horn of the wheel, Ben clutching Rey to his chest and Rey grasping his shirt. There’s an initial moment of pure horror before they both burst into laughter. 

 

          “As if our broken down bus in the K-Mart parking lot isn’t suspicious enough,” Ben mutters. 

 

          “At least we had the decency to move things inside. I don’t think the locals would mind a broken down bus so much as they would the two of us getting busy against the side of it.”

 

          “Getting busy, huh…” He repeats mindlessly. 

 

          “Mmmm…” Rey hums, a naughty hand coming to graze his lower belly just above his aching dick. Ben groans, holding a tight clutch on her hips and forcing them back and forth, creating friction. 

 

           Rey moans, taking control of his initiated movements. “Christ, kid. Again?” Ben questions. 

 

          “You haven’t even finished once.” 

 

_Ben is painfully aware._

 

          “And yes, _again_. We women bounce back pretty fast.”

 

          “Right, I forgot. You _women_ can have one orgasm after the other.” 

 

          Rey grins, fumbling with Ben’s pants as she makes to free him from his confines. Ben pulls his hands from her, chest filled with unreleased air as he watches her petite hands reach into his trousers, palming at his cock. 

 

          “F-fuck, Rey!” He strains. 

 

          The two of them work in tandem to push away his pants and briefs, freeing his cock and exposing his erection to the both of them. Rey’s already large eyes bulge for the slightest second before a curious hand moves to wrap her fingers around him. Ben sucks in a breath shortly after releasing one prior.

 

          “Is this alright?” She asks.

 

          And all over again, Ben feels as though he’s in high school experiencing his first sexual endeavors. And hell, with a girl Rey’s age, he might as well be. Ben nods, nonetheless, allowing her to jerk his dick. 

 

          Optics are concentrated on his member, working him from top to bottom, smearing the bead of precum that formed on the head across his flesh. The sight of Rey’s cunt sat so close to his cock is almost too much. He bites down on his tongue and begins to unbutton his shirt as to distract himself, to keep himself from coming then and there. He shrugs off his shirt, letting it act as a lower back pillow as it bunches behind him. Rey finally looks up, distraught by his broad and bare chest. 

 

          It’s when she leans forward and captures the skin of his pectoral muscle between her lips that he knows she likes what she sees. Ben slides a hand into her hair, peering down upon her dark tresses, catching glimpses of her hand stroking him. Each stroke pushes him farther to the edge, warm, slim fingers pumping his red shaft. He’s in ecstasy and hell all at once. Her touch is all too fantastic, but he's itching for more. 

 

          "I won't last much longer if you keep touching me like that." A soft chuckle follows his admission.

 

          “Want you to ride my cock.” He pants, the pressure in his balls becoming damn near unbearable. Rey pulls back, fingers continuing to skim his shaft. 

 

           “I…I’ve got a condom.” Her cheeks twinge pink and it’s noticeable even in lighting like this.

 

          Ben says nothing as the young woman dips down to procure her green wrist wallet from the floor, lithe fingers pulling the plastic package from within the tiny pocket. She gracefully tears open the plastic, dressing Ben’s erection in the sticky blue rubber and he can only blink, jerking at her touch.

 

          “C’mere.” Ben grumbles, hands taking a rough hold on her ass as he pulls her close, the tip of his dick ghosting her clit. “You were prepared for this.” Ben grips his member, teasing her soaking slit. “Had a condom at the ready. Do you want to ride my cock, Rey?” He swipes the covered tip back and forth across her weeping core, Rey whining from above as she moves her hips in sync. 

 

          “Mhmm,” Ben grabs her chin between his fingers, forcing her face downward as his eyes burn holes in her own.

 

          “Tell me.” He orders. 

 

          “I want to ride your cock, Ben. Please,” She pleads as he mercilessly teases her entrance before finally slipping the head inside.

 

          Ben groans aloud, hardly even inside of her. He can already feel her tight channel stretching to accommodate him. He’s transfixed on Rey as he impales her on his erection, watching the way her pink lips form a perfect O, and the way her cheeks twitch with each inch he pushes into her, and the pinched noises that she makes. 

 

          "Everything alright?" 

 

          "Ah- _yes_. You?" 

 

          He nods his head rather than telling her how snug she's holding him and how it's burning him from the inside out. 

 

_Yes, he's quite alright._

 

          He knows it won’t be long before he reaches climax, but he intends to make this last. Ben finds that in the moments following, the calm and serene ambiance of their breathing, he’s got all the time in the world. He takes his time, letting Rey adjust to his size as he gently guides her closer to his body. She leans into his warm chest, nipples at attention, poking lightly into him. Fingers card through her damp hair and he simply gazes.

 

          It’s too intimate, more intimate than anything the man’s ever experienced with anyone, really. Their faces hover against one another, foreheads clashing in the softest of touches, noses grazing. Ben can feel her around him, squeezing him and he’s sure she’s filled to the brim. He doesn’t feel rushed and takes it for granted just being inside of Rey.

 

          “Are you going to kiss me?” She finally asks.

 

           It’s so quiet that Ben thinks she may have thought out loud by accident. 

 

          Still, he takes it into consideration (as he has many a time before). The gap between them is closed, lips colliding in the gentlest crash there has ever been. This kiss, their first kiss, is chaste despite having given her an orgasm already, and despite his cock currently residing in her cunt. It’s pure and sweet; everything he anticipated and more. It's a phantom, the same phantom that's been haunting him since that cold day in December when he first saw her face. 

 

          “Rey…” Her name is a prayer on his lips that he delivers upon her own. “Can you move, sweetheart?" 

 

          There is a slight nod of her head and a slight shift of her hips. Ben assists her movements, helping her grind softly. Petite hands trail upwards on his torso, sliding over his pale chest and ultimately tangling themselves into his hair as she takes the reigns. Rey leans into him and presses her forehead to his and Ben doesn't miss the opportunity to lock eyes. And while he's staring into the dark green hues, he doesn't miss out on the way her body rolls, sliding up and down his length. His mind forgets to breathe, to blink, to swallow but his body's nature compensates as his head is consumed by the woman atop his lap, grinding into him. He clutches her sweat stricken form to his own, unable to contain himself from fucking up into her when she picks up her pace. They grunt and moan together, fingers piercing themselves into one another as if to stake a claim on each other's bodies. 

 

          Rey is a vision when she's sat in his bus, overlooking a book or watching the people from the window. And she's a vision now, laden with sweat from head to toe, beads glistening across her tanned skin, pert breasts bouncing in sync with how she bounces on his cock.

 

          Their breaths are shallow, bodies moving in simultaneity to achieve the same goal. But it isn't long before Ben is lifting Rey and himself, placing her on the seat, a knee bent over the cushion and a toned leg extended in the space between. The girl braces herself against the foggy windows, blurred and muggy from their activities. Her hand prints will most certainly leave smudges (not that Ben particularly minds as it will only serve to remind him of now.) A broad and muscular form molds itself around Rey. She's got her neck craned and head turned to watch what she can of his movement, ass intentionally poked outward toward him. A hand reaches out to slides across her flat stomach, tugging her body back as he settles his knee just outside of her own.

 

          A red, leaking and proud tip bobs, tapping her clit while Ben hovers over her before slipping himself back into her warm heat. He chokes out a moan, buried in her to the hilt. Rey does the same, back arched as she takes all of him. Ben is slow, allowing Rey the time to adjust before he begins to pound into her from behind. Digits dig into the flesh of her narrow hips pushing her, pulling her, controlling her. She doesn't protest the dominance he's claimed over her, but rather, she keens, fingers slipping from the windows as she scrambles to find something to hold onto.

 

          From below, Rey's converse clad foot is wobbling, the toes struggling to keep her balance as a constant string of whimpers tumble from her parted lips. She's grasping onto the fabric of the seat, supple behind raised in the air. Ben slides his grip downward to grab a handful of the soft muscle, kneading it and giving it a gentle swat before he leans over her, nipping and kissing along her neck and back. Half of her pretty face is pressed into the seat while the other is faced upward for Ben to view, to press his lips to tenderly despite how roughly he plows into her. 

 

          "You're so fucking tight, sweetheart. Do you like this? You like when I fuck you?" Ben taunts in a low bay, nearing his final thrusts. 

 

          "Shit, Ben! Yes! Please fuck me. So close..." Words that sound more like breathy cries are muffled partially into the cushion, Ben glancing at Rey's wandering hand as it finds the wanton place between her thighs, rubbing at her pussy the same way she did before.

 

          He leaves his trust in the sturdy seat below to hold her just as it's held him for years. And soon, he's crumbling, howling to the crescent moon outside as he comes. Somewhere along the line, amid the ringing in his ears and the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Rey finds her second finish, clenching deliciously around him, sending Ben into another frenzy that may or may not leave him to forget his own name. But he doesn't forget hers. He won't. He can't. Not when he's left whispering it over and over.

 

          When they've gathered their bearings, Ben reaches for Rey's trembling form, tucking her into his chest as they switch positions once more, Ben sitting and Rey snuggled into his lap. They're quiet with no need to talk, no awkward silences to fill. It's only him and her. Him staring at her and her staring back without a word. Just as they have been for months. That is, until, she breaks.

 

          "It's too hot to cuddle." Ben snorts at her and finds it most peculiar that she isn't the type for whispering sweet nothings after sex.

 

          "Sorry for roughing you up, there." He sighs, the pad of his thumb stroking circles into her hips. 

 

          "I'll send you my medical bill." Rey simpers, lithe fingers brushing through the damp tresses that frame Ben's face. "And I'll give you a warning for next time."

 

           A pause, he blinks and his brows raise for a brief moment. "There's going to be a next time?" 

 

           "Maybe..."

 

           With a smile, Ben pecks a small kiss to her mouth.

 

           "I'll take "maybe"." 

_____

 

          It's sometimes later, within a frame of two to three hours, that Triple A finally comes along to give the bus a ride. Rey and Ben find themselves squishes together in the front bench seat of the two truck and later touring around Ben's tiny home to which Rey comments "I'd have thought a giant like you would have a house to match." 

 

          "I drive a bus for a living, Rey." Ben quips bluntly, a grin on his face. 

 

          "Do you?" She teases. 

 

          There is something about the way her voice sounds, something about the way she cocks her brow that sends him over edge, leading him to scoop her up and throw her over his shoulder. 

 

          "If you insist." He replies, cheeky as she drops her onto his mattress. 

 

          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AANNNNNDDD one last lil thanks to you guys. reylos are the best <3
> 
> IF I GET ENOUGH FEEDBACK, I MAY UPDATE THIS CHAPTER AND ADD A LIL MORE SMUT AS A CONTINUATION!


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